Wildfire
by Maddy Soup
Summary: For Riku and Sora it's about taking a step past friendship. Demyx and Zexion need something to live for. For Cloud and Squall it's all about sex, and for Roxas and Axel, it's about the thrill of being burned beyond repair. AkuRoku/RiSo/SquallCloud/Zemyx.
1. Silent Night

Revised Summary: Riku and Sora are dealing with the fact they're out of high school and hopelessly in love--with each other. Demyx is looking for a way out, and Zexion is looking for answers. Axel is looking to help Zexion, and Roxas can't stop running from what he tries to not remember. Catalyst much?

**_The Soup Can: _**THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN by a darling friend of mine, who asked if I keep updating it for him. I only edit, suggest a few ideas; nothing huge. Thus, all credit and praise should be directed to my androgynous and beautiful companion, Milk with Honey. You'd better read it, though, and review, because I think this story is **beautiful.**

**Wildfire**

_By M. w. H._

: Chapter One :

: Silent Night :

**I****t **_**hurts**_**.**

More than that time when he slipped on the concrete and broke his collarbone and had to walk all the way home with a bawling Sora at his side, crying like _he_ was the one who'd been hurt; more than just a few weeks ago when he was making tea and the kettle slipped, spilling boiling water into his lap and all over his hands and marking him bright, raw pink for days; more than when Saix threw that same kettle at his head when he saw what he'd done.

This pain is not physical, like those other times. This pain is inside of his head and under his skin, bubbling beneath the surface of his masked emotions as he faces his brother. He has a bruise on his neck and several others on his arm, and just one in the inside of his thigh. He's only nine and Sora is eleven and not much bigger, older, or wiser, but that won't stop him from wishing otherwise.

So why can't he see?

How does he not notice?

"Did you have a nice summer, Roxas? I missed you so much!" the older coos, almost painfully, as he pulls his baby brother into a hug. Roxas can only wince, his face completely empty and his heart and belly full of something that he can only describe as being poisonous and as heavy as a bag of bricks.

He wants to cry; he wants to scream, to run away, to throw up, to close his eyes and wake himself up and tell himself that it was only a strange, hazy nightmare.

But most of all, he wants Sora to notice.

They are brothers, after all. Can't he see that something has clearly happened? Doesn't he notice that something is wrong?

"And, I've made a new friend! His name is Riku and he's my age, but you can be his friend, too, okay?"

Sora's breath is warm on his neck and he pulls away from the hug, but Roxas clings to him, clenching his fists against Sora's sides and keeping him close. Sora seems a bit surprised at such force, until Roxas pulls away and nods, stoic and solemn.

For a moment, Sora hesitates, and Roxas thinks he's noticed.

Then, that bright, brilliant smile is back and he extends his hand.

"Come on, then. You can tell me everything that happened at your summer camp and I'll tell you everything that happened at mine, okay?"

He takes his hand and listens to Sora's stories: he was on Team Sky and the enemies, Team Sea, were led by his new best friend Riku. He made a bird house and got the recipe on how to make the best s'mores in the world. He learned the secrets of the surrounding forest and how to swim for an hour without getting cramped up even a little bit. He played all sorts of games-volleyball and tennis and basketball and four-square.

"So," he finally pauses from his talking long enough to shovel down another bite of his peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, washing it down with a long slurp of apple juice. "What about you, Roxas? How was your summer camp?"

Roxas has yet to take a bite of his sandwich, glancing at it as it lay on his plate, untouched. Sora doesn't seem to notice his lack of appetite; probably because Roxas has never been as heavy an eater as his big brother.

"_How about you come stay with the adults for a little while? You can make us tea if you want. The others won't miss you."_

"_You're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen, Roxas. Can I take your picture?"_

"…The same stuff," he says quietly, nonchalant, and reaches for his sandwich, scooping it up and eating a mouthful. It takes all of his courage to bite back the urge to vomit.

* * *

: Six Years Later :

* * *

The dinner rush at Setting's Restaurant in Twilight Town is no less busy than usual. The place is small but packed tightly with chairs and tables, buzzing with the murmur of conversation. Five waiters are just barely enough to cover everyone, but they are all smiles and no-sweat as they fly through, suited up in black and white like bustling little penguins.

"Three for dine-in? Right this way."

The short blonde's section (back-right) is filled up to the very last table, and not one customer complains of feeling neglected. He doesn't smile with fake intent behind his eyes like the others. He walks with a tray attached to his hand, always stacked high with appetizers or drinks.

The girls don't stare at him; they're far too busy with the other blonde, Cloud, whose eyes sparkle with twice the brilliance of his, and who offers small, gentle smiles. Others prefer the grinning arrogance of Hayner, and his flirtatious commentary. Olette and Kairi take the other two sections, smiling sweetly and chirping their orders with girlish ease.

Hectic as it is, this is Roxas' job, and he doesn't mind. The rush keeps his thoughts occupied, and the money is better than decent. This is healthy for him, he tells himself. Being wealthy and busy are good things; still, he grumbles mentally with a note of distaste, sometimes people can be a teensy bit annoying in their selfish demanding.

"That'll be fifty and twenty two munny, please."

The rush ends as soon as it begins, and Roxas' section is by far the messiest. He's made quite a pretty penny, but no one would ever tell by the determined expression on his face as he vacuums the crumbs from beneath his table. The cheerios that had been brought from home by a particularly large and difficult table are squashed into the carpet, nearly impossible to ever completely clean.

"Roxas, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Kairi is somewhere near Sora's age; Roxas knows this because Kairi is infamously in love with Riku, Sora's best friend. He also knows that he doesn't like her very much. She's never been mean to him--on the contrary, she's been nothing but cordial--but there's something about her that makes him feel uncomfortable, almost like he's under a biased inquiry.

He gets the feeling a lot worse from her twin sister Namine, though.

"I wanted to ask if you could give Sora something for me."

She's trying to look shy and bashful, but she lacks any semblance of a blush and genuine emotion in her violet eyes. She bites her lip and pulls out an envelope from her apron; it smells like lavender (or it should have, except that the restaurant has the tendency to make everything in it smell like fried calamari) and Sora's name is written on the front in beautiful girl-script.

"Please. It's very important to me…"

He can't imagine what she's trying to pull, but he nods helplessly, and shoves the rectangle into his front pocket. Kairi seems taken aback by his disinterest, but says no more, and only backs up until she's back in her section.

Roxas finishes soon after, and is able to arrive home before his curfew. Everyone except Sora is already asleep; the brunette always stays up and waits for his brother, which is very sweet.

Sora is nearly seventeen and as childish and brilliant as ever, with his big blue eyes and his love for everything great and small. He beams from his spot on the twin bed, spreading his arms out against the comforter.

"Well, well," he grunts, stretching his arms up. The hum of the television is soft, but it makes Roxas' head feel fuzzy. "Look who's finally decided to show up."

"Kairi wanted you to have this," he says, tossing Sora the letter and laying sideways on his bed, facing the wall, away from Sora.

"Huh? Kairi? Are you sure it's not for Riku?"

"Your name is on it, jackass," Roxas says softly, laying over the blankets and closing his eyes with his face twisted into its usual scowl. "And it's scented. I think it's a love letter."

"'Dear Sora, I know this is going to seem very sudden and rushed since you think I like your best friend, but the truth is that I've always liked you, ever since that time when you asked me to go with you to Destiny Islands and eat a magical paopu when we were kids…' I don't think I ever did that," the brunette looks genuinely confused, but shrugs. Roxas rolls his eyes.

"She's lying."

"You don't know that."

"I do. She's trying to get Riku jealous by saying she loves you."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's a bitch, and people like her do things like that," he grumbles coolly. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Don't talk about her like that!" Sora snips, his voice hard. "She's my friend, whether you like her or not."

"I have no reason to like her if she's using you like this."

"She might actually have a crush on me," Sora raises an eyebrow as he speaks. "What, you think a person is incapable of liking me and not Riku?"

"I don't classify her as a person."

"Roxas, please."

Sora's patience is seemingly endless when it comes to most things, but he always refuses to split between his friends and brother. This is something that Roxas admires about Sora's character.

"Whatever. What're you going to do about it?"

"Tell Riku, of course," Sora's smile is affectionate. "He always knows what to do. But let's do that tomorrow, okay?"

Sora hops into his bed, rolling onto his back and facing away from Roxas. The blonde hesitates a moment and lays down in his own bed, listening to the near-silence, interrupted by the rhythmic pulse of Sora's breathing.

"…Sora?"

"Mm?"

"Are you ever going to tell Riku that you're in love with him?"

The silence that follows is tense and long, broken by Sora as he rolls over and faces his brother. His face is bright pink and his eyes are embarrassed; because Sora has never told Roxas these feelings, and he's a bit bothered that Roxas knows this fact anyway.

"Is it so obvious?"

"I know everything about you. Of course _I've_ noticed."

"…I…don't think so…"

"Riku says he's bisexual, though. So if that's what you're worried about--"

"It's not that," he murmurs, so quietly that Roxas has to strain to hear him. "It's me. I've seen some of the guys and girls Riku's been with, and they're just…a lot more _experienced_ than me."

"They've also never lasted past any date that he's brought you along on," Roxas raises an eyebrow, and Sora throws him a sharp look.

"That's not funny."

"I'm no comedian."

"…I'm just not…goodnight," and just like that, Sora closes himself off and turns his back to Roxas yet again, hugging himself beneath the blankets and shutting his eyes stubbornly.

Roxas watches his brother's shape for a long while. He doesn't know how someone can be so blind to the affections of another, and can't understand the depth of insecurity which keeps Sora from allowing himself to love Riku fully, and this bothers him. After all, love is rarely so blatant and apparent; why shouldn't one bask in such an opportune moment?

That night, Sora dreams of Riku's hands, gentle and wonderful enough to make him moan. Roxas dreams of hands, too, though their grip too tightly for comfort, and in his dream he cries out in shame. The snap of a camera shutter echoes in his memory.

* * *

: o :

* * *

"Amarant Coral."

The large redheaded man steps forward, awkward and bulky, and his hand nearly covers the principal's wrist as they shake with the right hand, and he accepts the diploma (dwarfed again by the size of his massive fingers) and stumbles away. He is as frightening as any eighteen year old could possibly be, but the ceremony continues.

"Zell Dincht."

Name after name is called, and Roxas glances beside him; his mother has never looked so proud in all of her life that he can remember. Tears are glistening in her sky-blue eyes, and her impossibly smooth, chestnut hair is tied back in preparation for the dozens of hugs she's prepared to give Sora.

He has to admit, Sora looks pretty important up there, even standing right next to Riku, who is gorgeous if nothing else; beautiful with his strange silver hair and halting eyes of sea-foam green. He is tall and cut, yet still is able to look almost pretty, despite his masculine build. He pokes Sora in the side and the brunette yelps loud enough that those around him shoot him violent glares at his insolence, and he flushes pink while Riku snickers.

"Rinoa Heartily."

"Ah," his mother gasps, and the tears flow as the pretty brunette beside Sora stands suddenly with a smirk, and strides over to receive her diploma. Roxas sighs and puts his hand on his mother's shoulder, almost laughing from her absurd reactions.

"Sora Hikari."

"My _baby,_" she moans in agonizing pride, smacking her hands together and clapping as if it's her only goal in life. He knows they'll be red and raw later, and the thought makes him chuckle as she finally crumples into a heap in her own lap, sobbing helplessly.

"Sora, my baby, my baby boy…all grown up!"

"Mom, please, you're making a scene."

"He's leaving the nest and running away to college, my baby!"

"He'll be less than two hours away. You're being absurd."

"Oh, Roxas!"

She throws her arms around his shoulders so suddenly that he nearly falls over on the stranger to his left, and he apologizes quickly with a flush of red across his face.

"Riku Kurai."

"And Riku too!" she bawls, her tears soak into his shoulder, making him grimace. "No, don't grow up so soon!"

"Mother," Roxas snips, prying the woman off of him and holding her upright by her shoulders. She seems to catch the hint and composes herself, dabbing her eyes with a tissue and looking so good one might have thought that she had never been tearful to begin with. He rolls his eyes again.

'_This is absolutely ridiculous. Women can be so crazy in times of emotional overload…'_

Still, though, he can't help the small smirk that makes itself present as she quickly gains her composure, sliding a finger covered by tissue across the underside of her eye, expertly clearing her smudged mascara into flawlessness.

"I just can't believe it's already happening, Roxas! One minute you're all in diapers and the next…look at how mature he looks!"

Roxas looks up and sees his brother on the opposing side of the stage. Riku grins and smacks him so hard on the back that Sora drops his diploma, and with a short yelp that Roxas can't hear but knows happens from years of living together, dives downward for but a moment to grab it, and surfaces with puffed cheeks at Riku.

"Mature…something along those lines, I think," he huffs.

When the ceremony is finished and the hoards of graduates rush forward to greet their families, Roxas stays back by the gate and stares up at the sky; it's nearing twilight, and the skies glow pink and orange and purple. He sighs contentedly, feeling rather at ease with himself as he does so.

"Nice day to graduate, huh, kiddo?"

The voice is nasally and strangely familiar, and he turns to the face that he nearly recognizes, but can't quite place. His hair is red and reminds him slightly of a lion's mane, while his deep green eyes sparkle with humorless mischief. He is long and thin; everything about him seems to jut out in violent angles, from his sharp elbows to his square jaw line. Two tear-shaped tattoos are imprinted on the skin just beneath his eyes.

"I wouldn't know," he says after a moment, and the redhead raises a thin eyebrow.

"Oh really? An underclassman, are you?"

"Maybe. It's none of your business anyway," his eyes narrow in suspicion at the quirky character, and the redhead seems slightly punctured by his cold, harsh words.

"…You don't remember me, do you?"

This time, Roxas turns and squints, scrutinizing the tall man silently. He bites his lip and watches another long moment, waiting for the exhilarating moment of insight that would accompany any memory of this stranger in his thoughts. Like a light bulb flashing in his memory, he would suddenly know why this face seemed so desperately recognizable and yet so forgotten.

The redhead snorts and turns back to the sunset.

"Figures. It was a long time ago, anyway. I mean, we were never really introduced, but I thought you'd…doesn't matter. I'm Axel. Got it memorized this time?"

He holds out a leather gloved hand, and at first Roxas thinks he's supposed to shake, but before he can even muster a comeback, his hand rubs against his blonde hair and he pulls him forward, pulling him against his chest and holding him tightly.

Roxas is first so surprised he can barely move, and then it hits him; the scent of this stranger is so close, on the tip of his tongue and on the very borders of his memory, and no matter how hard he reaches for the answer, he just can't place it. But that smell of coffee and cinnamon, cigarettes mixed with something stronger, something unique and indefinable…

He has known this man before; maybe not his name, or his personality, but this feels eerily proverbial.

"…Axel," he squeaks in discomfort.

"Yes, Axel," he purrs, and what Roxas can only guess is a kiss is placed gently on his hair, a brush of fiery lips against his scalp. Reality rushes into his face and he realizes his predicament is too strange, too familiar, too uncomfortable, and in a whirl of emotion he begins to struggle.

"G-Get off, you creeper!"

Roxas shoves the taller man away, and Axel doesn't look surprised in the least bit. He merely looks at the blonde, empathy in his eyes and a bleak grin across his twisted, emaciated face, and this look makes Roxas very, very angry. It's a look that Roxas has never seen before, one that indicates understanding and sympathy, and this makes him even more angry.

"Y-You're sick! Don't touch me if I don't even know you!"

"Roxas!"

Roxas whips his head around to the sound of his name, and by the time he turns around again, the stranger is gone, lost within a crowd of sobbing, jovial graduates and their families. He shivers in pure discomfort; his head has yet to catch up with the things that have transpired, and he feels a bit queasy at the notion.

But Sora runs forward and throws his arms around his brother's neck, smiling perfect sunshine, and Riku follows, looking slightly more mellow but nonetheless pleased.

Eventually, the infectious pleasantry of his brother and their graduating class rubs off on him, and Roxas forgets all about the man he couldn't remember in the first place.

* * *

End 1


	2. The Best Part of Summer

**Wildfire**

: Chapter Two :

: The Best Part of Summer :

**T****he sun **suddenly filters with cruel intent through the windows of the room, and Sora groans in discomfort from his spot on the floor. He snuggles closer into the warmth beside of him, sighing contently as a thick arm drapes haphazardly over him, pulling him closer.

Roxas bites his lip from his spot beside the window, his hand still poised on the string that opened the blinds in the first place. He's barely able to contain the taunting that edges on the tip of his tongue, but he does, for his brother's sake.

"Rise and shine," he whistles loudly and claps his hands three times, making Sora's eyes squinch and Riku groan in annoyance, his head burying into Sora's hair. The room smells stale with vodka and booze, and the groans from the half-dozen people lying sprawled over the floor.

"Roxas…" Riku groans and flips over a bit too obviously, and Roxas can't bite back this grin, because he alone knows that it was no coincidence that Riku and Sora were spooning. Drunk or not, Riku took any opportunity he could, and this one was just too cute to pass up.

"Mom's going to be home in twenty minutes. She just called."

His statement seems to work as an alarm in the heads of all the graduates, and they slowly rise--except for Tidus, whose limbs stick out from beneath a blanket as he takes up the entire couch and his snores are akin slightly to a grizzly growl--and begin to dispose of the evidence of underage drinking.

Sora sits up and wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. With a grimace he runs his tongue over his teeth, nearly flinching.

"I need a toothbrush," he grumbles.

"Believe me, we're very aware," Roxas says, and Sora scrunches his face, eliciting a small chuckle from his blonde brother.

Kairi's hair is matted and in every direction, and she notices the space between Sora and Riku (or lack thereof) with apprehension, as if she knew that Sora's every decision depended on Riku's approval and vice versa.

"Morning Roxas," she murmurs, her eyes snapping away from the boys to the blonde. "You working today?"

"Yea. You?"

"Damn…I was going to ask if you'd sub for me…"

"It'd be a bit redundant if you did now," he picks up a beer can and she either ignores the comment or doesn't hear it, and turns instead to Namine, who looks completely sober.

She's very pretty, as far as females go; platinum blonde hair and a delicate, feminine build, accentuated by her wardrobe of light colored girlish clothing. She was still dressed in the white sundress she'd worn beneath her graduation gown, though it was a bit wrinkled from the sleep.

It's only as he's observing this does he realize that she's staring at him, her navy blue eyes rising to meet his. She doesn't blush or smile, like some girls might, but instead her eyes flicker away, as if she's guilty or sad. This is how she usually looks at him, and he hates it.

"Nammie, could you cover for me?"

"I can't," she answers and busies herself with some red plastic cups, throwing them in the trash bag that Sora has produced. "I'm going out."

"With whom?"

"A friend," she says, and this time, she does blush, but Kairi is too busy hopping over to Sora to notice. She steps between him and Riku, and the silverette raises an eyebrow in minor offense at the obviousness of her action. She hugs Sora's arm playfully and rests her head on his shoulder, whining softly about how drunk she had just been and how hung over she is this morning.

Riku's eyes are absolutely murderous as she places a long, wet kiss on his cheek, but Sora just laughs awkwardly and holds up the trash bag, and she's taken aback in such a way that Riku snorts with laughter.

"How they don't notice each other is beyond me," Namine says suddenly, shaking her head in dismay, and Roxas allows himself to grin and nod in agreement.

* * *

: o :

* * *

Days pass, and Roxas cannot shake the unease that he always feels with the presence of summer. It is his deepest darkest secret that he keeps right under the noses of everyone he knows, but it's a truth that he's admitted only to himself, no matter how he might act otherwise:

Roxas hates the summertime.

He hates everything about it.

He hates how the blinding, brilliant sun is out longer these days than on ones in any other season, cooking the planet and the people on it without them even knowing. He hates the lack of order and structure that he is able to hold with his school's schedule, and how he finds that, more often than not, there's nothing to do but sit around and soak in the heat. He hates the beach where Sora thrives, because even though neither of them have fair, pale skin that burns in the sun, he gets nauseous watching half-naked people running around and flirting.

Which is why, nine times out of ten, Roxas busies himself with his job.

The place is packed tightly with teenagers when Roxas arrives an hour early, apron in hand. Cloud nods at him, and Kairi leaps over to him with a happy but tired sigh.

"Thank god you're here--can you take a few tables for me? I need a break."

"Yea."

He has already begun walking away from her, wanting nothing more to say, but she follows, grasping onto his wrist and tugging hard. He snaps his arm from her grip, glaring death into her face.

"Don't touch me."

"Okay, okay, sorry! I just wanted to know…what did…uhm…Sora…"

She trails off with a hesitant smile, and Roxas scowls further.

"…Nothing."

"What?"

"He didn't say anything. I didn't talk to him about it. Go take your break."

She is taken aback by the edge in his tone, but he could care less because it's just too damn humid out today and he's not in the mood to play 'nice-baby-brother' with this particular female. And, he could be mistaken, but he thinks he sees Cloud smother a grin as he walks by.

Within moments he is clocked in and fully uniformed, ready for tables. He walks over to Kairi's section and nearly drops the pen he's retracted from his front pocket.

The redhead--Axel, he remembers with a slight jolt--is sitting in the seat nearest to the window, his palm covering his mouth as he stares outside. The sun glares in reflection off of the window, blinding the blonde as he stands, paralyzed in place.

Before he can scamper off and tell Cloud to take the table, though, the redhead turns and, with a wicked smirk, motions him over with two fingers, beckoning him the way a crocodile might lure a baby calf to the edge of the water.

* * *

: o :

* * *

Squall Leonheart's view on messiness is as follows and rigidly unchanging despite any and all circumstance: _intolerable. _Comprehensibly, exclusively, and statically intolerable.

Thus, one might imagine his rage upon returning to his household after a long day's work to find his kitchen splattered with an array of flour, water, milk, and puppy chow, lining the countertops and overflowing in the sink; his nice, polished shoes splatter and he looks down and sees he's stepped into egg white, and the yolk spills onto his floor. On the table, a half-empty box of sugar slips down and the white granulated specs edge into the concoction on the floor.

The seconds tick by and his fists clench and unclench as heat rises to his cheeks, and he tries to breathe slowly and evenly, though it comes out as sharp and shaking with fury instead. He clears his throat after a moment, and his sharp, murderous eyes peer into the darkness of the room next door.

"Yuffie," he calls, not bothering to hide his malice with sweetness or honey-dipped appreciation. His contempt rages over and he steps forward, grimacing at the crunchy, sticky squelching his shoes make as he repeats the action across the kitchen. "Yuffie."

He flickers on the light and finds something that very slightly resembles a cake placed in the middle of his nice, cherry-wooden table. Colored icing melts off of the picture on the top and sticks onto the polished surface, making his stomach twist in anguish, as he knows getting that sort of paste off will take great effort. He takes another step and peers down with furious eyes at the lettering and crudely drawn picture of what looks like either a cow or a Dalmatian, who appears to be saying, _'Please keep me?'_

"Yuffie!" he snaps finally, and the sound is followed by a cacophony of barking puppies; the sound of his loyal little companions betraying him and allowing his roommate to go against his wishes and _buy another god-damned animal._

"YUFFIE!"

"I'M COMING, I'M COMING, GEEZ!" the reply is impatient and irritated, but not half as irritated as Squall feels at that very moment. He listens as she opens the gate and allows the puppies to scamper down the stairs, and stands as still as a statue as they all bark and nip and lick and leap at his feet.

All twelve of them.

"Where is it?"

Yuffie appears at the question, looking suspiciously fresh--he can smell her shampoo radiating, and she's showered, clearly trying to dispose of the evidence of her crime--and in her hands, a freshly-showered puppy yelps and wags its tail. A blue ribbon is tied around his little head, and Yuffie smiles pleadingly.

"I'm so glad you're home! You see, I was on my way back from school and I saw this poor little guy in a cardboard box, and he was so hungry and so CUTE and I--"

"Yuffie. How many animals do we have right now?"

"Well…" she tries to lighten the mood but can't, seeing his flat, pissed off expression. "Thirteen dogs."

"How many?"

"Thirteen."

"Let that number sink in for a minute. Thirteen. The average individual has one."

"They're so well-behaved, though! Please, Squall? Just this last one, I promise."

She holds him up to Squall, and stormy grey eyes flicker over the tiny creature; impossibly dark brown eyes with tiny black pupils, excitedly glittering from the overhead light, almost pleading for unconditional love from a total stranger, perfectly spaced above and apart from a miniscule muzzle, and a tiny, black nose, lining down into the smallest of mouths; a tiny pink tongue slides out as he pants, his face almost forming a little smile…his clean white coat, freckled darkly, and big, floppy ears that perk with the sound of the clock…those big, clumsy puppy paws…

Now, Squall Leonheart is not a softie. Really, he's not. But some things in life are more irresistible than intolerable.

"…Did you name it yet?"

And this little mess is one of them.

* * *

: o :

* * *

"It's been six years and three hundred sixty days since we first met."

At first, Sora thinks that this is complete hyperbole, because (after all) who honestly can count things like that in their head? But seeing the serious look on his friend's face makes him reconsider such thoughts, and he shrugs for lack of anything better to do.

"It's been a long time…"

"Yea. It's hard to imagine time before us, right?"

Sora can't help but flush at his words, because they sound so trite and romantic, and it sounds weird coming from one guy to another.

The fact that Sora is head over heels madly in love doesn't help much either.

"Y-Yea, I guess so."

"How come we never went back? To summer camp, I mean?"

Sora lets the question settle in, and frowns lightly. The answer is too far away to fathom, though he remembers he was the one against going back. Time has eroded at his memory, and he sighs with pouty lips, slumping forward on the bed so he's laying down beside Riku. The silver-haired man eyes him with mild interest, watching his facial expression twist and change.

"I don't remember…but I _do_ remember that you wouldn't go because I didn't."

"It would have been pointless," Riku huffs, turning towards the window. "I could beat everyone else so easily. You were my only real competition, even though I whipped your ass at everything."

"What? No way! Remember that one time, with fake-swords, right after lights-out? You snuck them in from the closet and we sparred until we couldn't stand, and I totally beat you once or twice!"

"No way; I don't believe you."

"And there was the scavenger hunt, too! Remember that?"

"That was different, because it was a team effort, and your team was clearly a million times better than my crew. I'm talking one-on-one."

He reaches down and pokes Sora's cheek to make his point, and he laughs when Sora scrunches his nose. The smaller gets up off of Riku's bed and heads over to his desk, running his fingers along the flat surface before delving into the ever-interesting world of his drawers, much to his friend's amusement.

"I don't get why you like going through your stuff so much."

"Because it's yours."

The answer sounds too risky, he realizes too late to take it back; too open-ended, like a hint more than anything else, so he clears his throat to push away the awkward and opens the top drawer.

"You keep all of this weird stuff in here. Like this!"

He pulls out what could only possibly be a treasure map, crudely drawn by childish, clumsy fingers years ago. Sora laughs as he lifts it up.

"It's the map we drew of the island…look, here's the shoreline, and the tree house, and even the secret place."

"The secret place!" Riku laughs and crawls over to the edge of the bed, leaning on his belly with his chest half-off of the furniture while he peers from afar at the old paper. "We haven't been there in awhile."

They look at each other and grin simultaneously.

"I'll race you?"

"You'll be sorry, I'm--_hey!_"

Sora's laughter echoes down the hall, as the boy's already leaped up and scampered away, his footprints audible as he nearly trips down the stairs. Riku listens with a half-grin as he curses loudly from bumping into something.

Moments pass and the silver-haired man only shakes his head and chuckles. With precision and intent that has defined his actions for years, he walks to the window, opens it, and steps onto his roof.

Sora is a clever boy; it's a shame he hasn't realized that there's a shortcut to the shore in Riku's backyard.

* * *

: End 2 :

* * *


	3. Composure Maintenance

AN: Hey guys; my cohort and I are a little disheartened by the lack of response from this story, but to the two people who did review, thank you so much! It is greatly appreciated. Don't think we'll stop posting just because of a lack of response, but just know it's very disconcerting. Despite this though, there is no reason for a story not to be told, even if there is no audience! The show must go on, and so forth!! :) Good, bad, indifferent--tell us what you think!! Thanks a bunch, and without further ado, the fourth installment! -Soupie & M.w.H.

**

* * *

**

Wildfire

* * *

: Chapter Three :

: Composure Maintenance :

* * *

**W****hen** **faced** with uncomfortable circumstances, most discover that one has either two options; fight or flight. To fight is to stand one's ground and face the challenge head-on, come what may. And flight, of course, is to avoid the situation at any and all costs. These reactions are innate in every living being, and, as Roxas stands with his eyes trailing along the angular, vibrant spikes of Axel's head, he finds himself wishing to take the latter of the two reactions.

"Roxas," Axel drawls after a moment, noting the pale, blank expression on his tanned face, laden within it the horror of being prey. "Come here, won't you?"

His belly goes into a series of nervous summersaults, a reaction he relates loosely to the feeling of dropping down a ten-thousand-foot high rollercoaster, just without the wind or the screaming. His breathing is suddenly a little too fast and his heart is suddenly beating twice as fast to catch up.

Over the span of about two seconds, he observes his options; Cloud is nearby delivering a meal to a family, and Roxas wouldn't doubt if he would be very angry if he took the serving tray and used it to smack Axel repeatedly over his head…though, of course, this thought leads him to reason on what grounds would he have to base his anger on, and why he would want to hurt a near stranger at all.

Another option would be to run back and tell Kairi to screw herself and take the table.

Or maybe to ask Cloud if he would…

Still, words and reason cannot explain why he steps forward with his notepad in hand, pen poised.

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

"My name, if you please," his pointy face turns slightly with distaste at the formality, and Roxas resists the urge to scrunch his face. Instead, he rolls his eyes.

"Are you ready to order, _Axel_?"

"That's better. What do you have with strawberries in it?"

"Strawberries? Uhm, we have milkshakes, pancakes, shortcake, a la mode, and fruit bowls--"

"Strawberry shortcake, then. And a coffee."

He jots down the order and snatches the laminated menu from Axel's long, nimble fingers, feeling an unwarranted but existent spike of anger as the elder grins wide at him. Those fingers lace together and he holds them covering his mouth and elbows clearly on the table, but the grin is still present, clearly amused by Roxas. The blonde sees this and it further agitates him.

He storms away, feeling hot chills rush up and down his back as an emerald gaze follows his actions.

"Friend of yours?" Cloud murmurs, observing his rattled demeanor. The shorter growls and pushes past him, slapping the order into the computer with twice the force than necessary.

"Nope," he huffs. "Just some creeper."

Roxas busies himself with other tables to avoid Axel at all cost, but he can feel his eyes on him the entire time he's working. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watches him. He is poised in the same position, standing out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of the tall, bright window, and the yellow wallpaper that lines the place.

But his green eyes never stray far from Roxas, casually observing his every action, and this unnerves him like nothing has ever before. Even when he pours his coffee, those eyes are locked onto his face, one thin eyebrow raised.

"…Stop it."

"Hm?"

"Stop _leering _at me. It's uncomfortable."

"I can't help it. There's so much to see," is the only answer the redhead gives, and picks up his coffee.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

But Axel says nothing, and after a moment Roxas treads away with icy steel in his eyes.

When the slice of cake is ready to go, though, Roxas is the one who hesitates before leaving. The redhead smirks and peers down at his plate absently. The blonde flushes pink and forces his heartbeat to still before he speaks, barely able to muster the courage.

"How do you know me, anyway?" he asks as Axel picks up one of the strawberries scattered around the plate in a decorative manner, and plops it onto his extended tongue. He looks up at Roxas while chewing.

"…That's a very good question," he murmurs, and Roxas is surprised to see that his grin slips away for a moment…though it returns in full force before Roxas can even open his mouth to form words, and he holds up a strawberry slice expectantly, bringing the small pink fruit close to Roxas' lips. The blonde angrily pushes his hand out of the way.

"Stop it!"

"What? Can't I offer you a treat, as a reward for your satisfyingly draining day? Is that so much to ask?"

"I've just gotten here, and it's not draining at all anyway. You're weird."

"You're lonely."

"That is the _lamest_ response to an insult I've ever heard."

"Who's insulting whom? I'm just stating an opinion I hold about you."

"You don't even know me," Roxas finally snaps, stomping his foot childishly. "So how can you have an opinion?"

"Am I pushing your buttons, baby? Don't be mad," he coos in response, reaching out to run his fingers over Roxas' hand. The blonde slaps him away before he can even get close, glowering with murderous intent. The effect is lost, because his ears are vibrant and pink.

"Don't touch me!"

"Excuse me. Is there a problem here, Roxas?"

Both turn their heads and see Cloud standing with a protective look on his face as he stares down at Axel. The redhead offers only his brightest smile and leans back into the seat.

"Aw, calm down, Spiky. I was just teasing, right, baby?"

Roxas loses his nerve, despite the support that Cloud tries to offer. His insides turn into gruel and he scrunches his face to hide the tickle of red that's stretched from one cheek to the other. At length, he shrugs, trying to ignore the smug look on his customer's face. Unsatisfied, Cloud purses his lips slightly.

"…I'll take care of him for you, Roxas."

"Roxas doesn't need you to take care of him," Axel's voice has lost its playful tone, and both blondes turn around just as he stands. His green eyes, half-lidded and impossibly magnetic, slide against Roxas, and the blonde feels his heart stutter and skip, and then race to catch up with itself. "He doesn't need anyone to take care of him, right?"

And just like that, the pieces click together in his head, and he remembers.

"_Don't move, Roxas. I'll take good care of you."_

"…_I can…take care of…myself."_

"_Not like this you can't. Let me help you. Just once, okay?"_

"_You'll like this, I promise. I…Roxas? Roxas?! ROXAS!!"_

White lights strike the corners of his vision and he has to cup a hand over his mouth and bite his tongue to sedate the urge to scream he suddenly feels. Cloud doesn't seem to notice for a second, but when he does, he kneels down and holds Roxas' shoulders, watching the boy's face turn unhealthy green. Shivers run through his small body as he breaks out into a cold sweat.

"Roxas? Are you alright? Roxas!"

His blue eyes stare with accusation and grief at the redhead, who stares back with mirroring sadness. Without another word, he places a handful of munny coins on the table. He doesn't give either blonde another glance as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets and leaves the café, cutting off a female as she reenters the shop.

"…What was that about?" Kairi's voice is far away, too far away while Roxas' face is slack and his body trembles and his heart goes numb…he sees Cloud through the thick hazy white that's taken over his vision, and yet, he can't, he _can't, _because all he can think about is the smell of sandalwood and cigarettes and Axel--he was there, he was _there, _beneath the floorboards while the counselors' feet caused the wood just above their heads to creak, almost like an impending dirge, because they're trapped and--

"Kairi, I think he's going to faint."

It's then that he notices his lower lip is trembling, his eyes are stinging, and his limbs are positively frozen in place without hope of moving any time soon. His heart inside his chest throbs in its hollow encasement.

'_Composure.'_

He takes a deep, shaking breath, and grabs Cloud's hands, which are still on his shoulders. The blonde raises his eyebrows and Roxas shakes his head cautiously.

"I'm sorry about that. Were you saying something?" He tries to keep an even tone, but it comes out monotone, and Cloud's forehead creases with worry.

"You looked so sick…what happened?"

"Nothing. I just…felt a little dizzy. Sorry."

"Don't be," Cloud stands and runs a hand through his hair, his face twisting slightly as he looks at the boy. Roxas wipes his hands on his apron and starts to clear away the coffee and plate, but Cloud just snorts.

"Go home. You look like hell."

"I'm okay--"

"Leave. You might get sick on a customer."

"I won't, I promise," he answers as his shaking hands grasp the coffee cup. _'Get a grip.'_

"Roxas," Cloud's voice is firm and he grabs the dishes from his hands, and Roxas winces and stares with pleading eyes. His face is unyielding and stern. "Go home."

"…Please let me stay," he murmurs low, and thanks everything that it's not so busy, that there isn't anyone in their general area to hear. "Please, Cloud, I need to stay here."

"…Are you seriously alright? You're making me nervous," he mutters, and it's strange, because Cloud has never been one to show any emotion at all, but he's genuinely concerned, and this makes guilt flare up inside. Roxas shakes his head even more and takes the dishes back, his gut tightening to quell the sickness that threatens to send him home, where he would have nothing to do but think about _it_…

"It was just a moment. I'm good, I promise. Axel…he's right, you really don't have to worry about me," he says, and then smiles like he means it.

* * *

: o :

* * *

In a nearby district of Twilight Town, a dirty-blonde sits with his knees bent and leaning against the wall, with a sitar in his hands and a small, rumpled hat in front of him. Inside, a few munny coins weigh the hat down from blowing away, and he eyes it warily as his fingers dance wildly over the strings.

There are very few people nearby; a couple walking around with their hands twined; a boy chasing his Labrador as his laughter rises up to the sherbet sky; and a pair of cold, dark blue eyes looking directly into his own.

He flushes and plucks the wrong string as his heart speeds in his chest, and he allows a smile to stretch across his face, pearly white and inviting. The man who stares back doesn't smile--he only flickers his eyes back down towards the book in his lap and flips the page with a single, fluid motion from his gloved hand, and then glances back up.

Demyx bites his lip and quickly ends the song he was in the midst of playing with a final few strums of his fingers. He closes his eyes for a moment and spares a glance towards a nearby fountain. Water has always captivated him, and he finds a calming sensation through the rush of emotions he feels because of a stranger's stare.

He plays a song that he hasn't played in awhile, and the sound of the gentle, familiar plucking soothes him into a flowing state of stillness.

Just music, the water, and the stranger exist.

And Demyx can't imagine how life could be any better.

"Demmy!"

Demyx snaps his head up at the sound of his girlfriend's sharp, cutting voice. The blonde woman has sharp, electric blue eyes and a scowl on her pretty face as she crosses her arms over her chest. She wears a thin black shirt, the sleeveless straps from which slide over her bony shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were working today."

"I got off early," Demyx explains, his face tracing pink as he bites his lip and dares to jerk his eyes in the direction of the stranger. His face is half-shrouded by his thick, dark hair, but his lips are pulled tightly into a frown.

"Whatever. Let's go already, this place is too quiet," Larxene grumbles, and nods in the direction of the train station. Demyx nods and hurries to put his instrument in its protective case. Without warning, three coins clatter onto his case, and he smiles and looks up at the generous donator.

His heart skips a beat when he sees the stranger's face, peering down at him with an aloof look on his perfect face. From their distance, Demyx can see that they are nearly the same in height, save for about an inch he holds over the other, and that the stranger who watches him is much stronger than he'd originally noticed.

This thought startles him as much as the coins, and he absently tries to remember actually _noticing _the frame of this man.

"You play well," his voice is low and smooth, and he leaves before Demyx can even allow the blush to stretch from one cheek to the next. The earth nearly shifts beneath his feet and yet he feels his knees and toes digging into the grass, stable as anything. In his chest something warm seems to surge forward, like a wave crashing onto a shore.

It's the first time he's felt so warm since…well, he can't very well remember an exact moment…but he knows it's before a very demoralizing summer, almost six years before.

* * *

: o :

* * *

"I love summertime," Sora sighs with a lazy smile as he lays shirtless and shoeless in the sand with his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes press closed to keep out the sting of the harsh noon sun, while his nose scrunches slightly from the effort. Behind his eyelids, the red color matches the almost overwhelming heat, and as he bakes in the sun he thanks everything that it's such a perfect day without humidity or clouds to ruin it.

"I'm aware," Riku says groggily as he lays beside him, and Sora spares a quick glance at the tall man; he positively shines in the sunlight, like a marble statue more than a best friend. His long hair frames his perfect face, every contour memorized in Sora's head, and he only wishes he could freely run his fingers along his cheekbones, his jaw, those inviting, _tantalizing_ lips…down the smooth of his neck, broken only by the distinct curve of an Adam's apple and two round, strong shoulders that have clearly seen their days of work.

Down his smooth, broad chest, muscled and chiseled and _godly, _down his abdomen and the small dip of his naval, and further, to the distinct, cut lines that almost form a 'V', teasingly pointing inward towards a hidden secret that serves as the only thing about Riku that Sora has never seen--

"Sora?"

The brunette snaps his head in attention to meet Riku's face, and he looks like he's waiting for something. Cherry bursts onto Sora's cheeks.

"Wh-What?"

"I asked if you knew when Roxas was off of work."

"Oh," he says stupidly, and tries to swallow; his throat is impossibly and inexplicably dry. "Uhm, probably around eight…oh no, never mind. He's closing tonight, so probably eleven or so."

"Jeez," Riku's face twists into a scowl and he leans back, apparently unaware that Sora had just been so intently and shamelessly _ogling_ him. "He works more than anyone I know, and he's only a sophomore."

"He's loaded, too, from all this work. He could probably buy his own house and live self-sufficiently, if he didn't know how much mom would worry."

"That's an understatement," Riku rolls his eyes and flips onto his stomach. The action graces Sora with the scent of Riku's cologne and sweat--something delicious and enticing and, _god, _are his shoulder blades really as smooth and flawless as they look beneath the thin layer of sand that's stuck there, or is his body really made of ivory like it looks…?

"Ne, _Riku…_"

Startled by the strange sound of Sora's voice, Riku looks up, only to see the brunette running full-speed towards the cold ocean water. He dives in wordlessly, and Riku sits up and watches curiously. He surfaces with a thick gasp, beaming brighter than the sun above and waving.

"C'mon, Riku! The water feels so good!" he laughs loudly, which is fine, since they're the only ones on this side of the island anyway. And even if they weren't--as if the presence of people might dampen Sora's spirit.

Riku watches a moment, secretly reveling at the sight of the brunette freely splashing around like a child rather than a high school graduate. In his chest, he feels his heart tug in a strange emotion somewhere betwixt ache and adoration.

Sora is his best friend. For years, it was a situation of reciprocating platonic affection…and yet…he can't quite figure out what it is, but there's something else added into their equation now; a confounding variable he can't really figure out. Like blood beneath the skin; on the outside it's invisible, but inside it flows and pounds, furiously working and warming and--

"Hey! Are you coming, or not?!" Sora's lower lip juts out in a pout, and Riku brushes the feeling away with a laugh and stands, his feet kicking up a mist of sand as he runs towards the ocean.

* * *

: o :

* * *

There are a great number of things that the intellectual and seemingly emotionless Cloud Strife is, and an idiot is not one of them. Sure, under the burden of illustrious beauty it's often the trend that an individual falls prey to praise, basking without accomplishing anything in an endless torrent of eulogized fondness. Cloud could not be further from such a stereotype--he is a little bit too dense (or severely lacks the self-awareness) to recognize when he's being flirted with, which is often in his case. Despite this, he is very observant when it comes to the reactions of others.

Roxas, for example, is usually very quiet when Cloud drives him home, but it's a very different quiet than the tangible discomfort he can sense at this moment. He slows as he comes to the house where he lives; the moon is overhead, a gleaming Cheshire grin against milky blackness. Stars effortlessly freckle the suburban sky, and Roxas turns from looking above with a half-grin.

"Thanks," he offers, and goes to open the car door. Cloud reaches over and shuts the door, and then leans back casually against his own seat. Startled, Roxas eyes him suspiciously.

"Cloud…?"

"That guy," he says. "This morning."

Roxas' eyes harden like stones, and Cloud knows Roxas too well to prod him for more information. He waits, calm and silent--the radio has since been turned off. Too long for comfort, and then, Roxas speaks, his voice low and hurried.

"Don't worry about him. He's just some guy, alright? He didn't do anything to me or whatever, if that's what you're thinking, and no, I'm not just saying that. Actually, I sort of owe him an apology for the way I was acting…don't look at me like that!" he snaps suddenly, glaring at his knees. "I know what you're thinking, and no, I'm not just covering this one up. He…I…"

"…"

"…What?"

"…I was just going to tell you that he only paid for half of his meal. The other half is coming out of your paycheck."

"O-Oh," Roxas flushes bright pink, and Cloud smirks.

"I'm joking of course. If he really didn't do anything to you, I'd suggest you see a doctor, because you practically had a panic attack."

"I--"

"Or talk to him. Let it out. Bottling any kind of emotion, whether its resentment or hurt or love or whatever, it's really unhealthy."

"You're one to talk about bottling emotion," Roxas slips, and then freezes, mentally berating himself for that. "I--I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Cloud shrugs, masking his slightly surprised reaction with a smirk. "Whatever. Your mom's going to kill me if you don't go inside soon, though."

"Yea…thanks again," he nods, and pauses. For a minute, Cloud thinks that he's going to say something more, but then he just shuts his mouth and opens the door. He watches until the kid is inside his house, and then starts the car again, pulling it from park into drive. He hasn't gone fifteen feet when suddenly, a flash of white catches his eye, rushing out into the road, right into his line of driving. He slams his foot down on the breaks before he can even register that another figure has run out, dark and large and curled over the puppy. The hood of his car stops an inch from the two figures.

Cloud is not used to being so rattled, and he has to put a hand to his racing heart to keep it from bursting out of his chest. Bewilderment, fury, and relief well up inside of him in such a hurry that he barely realizes that he's unbuckled his seatbelt and has gotten out of the car.

The figure, it turns out, is a man, and the white flash is apparently his puppy.

* * *

: End 3 :

* * *


	4. An Illustrious Fabrication

AN: Another great big thank you and a massive kudos to Rachie-chan and Bubblegum Head, our two reviewers; it means the world to us. Also, thanks to all of the people who put us on their alert lists. Happy happy turkey day!

* * *

**Wildfire**

* * *

:: |Chapter Four| ::

:: |An Illustrious Fabrication| ::

* * *

"**I****t's nothing."**

It doesn't even sound convincing to him; he's never been a good liar as it is, but in this case, embarrassment overrules the common sense that tells him Riku is bigger, faster, stronger, guaranteed to grab the small piece of paper he's got crumbled to his belly in his tightest grip.

"The hell it isn't!" Riku's face is creased in a frown, but his lips tug into a grin as he stares at the boy who burrows beneath the covers, hiding whatever facial expression would clearly betray his true emotion. "Let me see, Sora!"

"No…it's nothing. Don't worry about it!"

Riku pounces on top of the lump beneath the blanket, eliciting a soft yelp as the sprat begins to squirm and struggle. His laughter, though muffled by the blankets, rises up as Riku's hands attach themselves to his thin sides, digging in and wriggling and tickling him senseless.

"Ah! Ri--Riku, _stop, _ah! Ri-_kuuuu!_"

Between shrieks and giggles, Sora manages to squirm his way out of Riku's grasp and out of the covers, with every intention of running for the door. But Riku's hands grasp at his ankle before he can get away, and he pulls him back towards him with a grin on his face; Sora's laughter is inescapably infectious.

"RIKU! No, don't--ah!"

He dissolves into fits with a painful smile on his face, wriggling in Riku's lap.

"O-kay!! RIKU! I give up, I'll let you have it, _Ri--kuuuu!"_

He releases his clenched fist, and Riku grasps the crumpled piece of paper and hops away; there's a blush tracing his cheeks as he registers the sound of his name being squealed by Sora, but he ignores it and instead reads the letter that he's been so unfortunately left out of.

Sora sighs and flops onto his back, his breathing still erratic and his shirt rising up to reveal his belly. He flushes as Riku's cyan eyes dance over the page, taking Kairi's love letter to Sora with a creased brow. Uncomfortable, the brunette slid off of the bed and stepped over to the window and swinging it open. The sky was grey and imposing, and a warm breeze carried the scent of the ocean into his home.

"I think it's going to rain soon," he murmurs, hoping to ease the sudden tension he feels radiating from his friend. Riku snorts and crumples the letter into a tiny ball into his hands, and throws it into the trashcan.

"How stupid."

Sora turns, surprised at the venom in his tone; Riku huffs and stands, glaring at Sora. His baby blues widen and he opens his mouth to speak, but Riku beats him to it, leaning on the edge of the windowpane with his shoulder against the wall and his arms crossed with balled fists.

"She's so stupid. I can't believe she would write such a stupid love letter. She's so shallow."

"What? I thought you--"

"Are you honestly about to defend her? Just because she says that she thinks you're cute, and despite the fact she knows next to nothing about you--"

"Riku--"

"You'd better not go out with her, Sora," he finally glowers. His voice is never raised in anger, but merely stating facts in a detached, uncaring way.

"Don't be like that, Riku."

He scoffs and turns to give Sora a grin.

"Why, do you like her back?"

"N-No!"

"Sora," he coos suddenly, leaning so that his nose nearly brushed Sora's. "You can tell me, you know, if you ever like someone. I promise I won't tell…"

Sora's breath hitches at their proximity, and he can't stop himself from noticing how sweet Riku's breath feels as it brushes against his lips, nor how peach-pink and beautiful his lips are, just barely parted, and a few stray locks of silver are framing his face, his _face, _those high cheekbones and that strong jaw line, and…

"I don't," he hears himself speaking. "I mean, I don't like anyone right now."

Riku pulls away with a wider grin, and he ruffles the mop of brown hair on his head; the rain begins as a few flickers patting against the pane and roof, and then more, increasing until it falls at full speed from the skies. Their eyes meet and flash with the lightning, and Sora jumps at the resounding crackle of thunder that follows, but doesn't look away.

Both of the teens look like they have something they want to say, but neither seems to notice as they search for the courage to say it. A minute passes, maybe two, and Sora is frozen and terrified and hopelessly in love with his best friend_._

"I--"

The door suddenly opens and Roxas walks inside, smelling heavily of restaurant and sighing heavily. He goes to take off his shirt, but pauses when he sees the pair by the open window, with the rain and the storming outside. He looks between them, and then raises a puzzled eyebrow.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Sora and Riku simultaneously say, too quickly for avoiding suspicion. Roxas rolls his eyes and rips open his closet door, and grabs a tight white t-shirt and some jeans.

"Don't let me bother you, then."

"Roxas--"

"I'll go for a walk. Bye," he grumbles, and lets himself out. For a long moment, Sora and Riku are silent, until Sora clears his throat and sits down on the bed again. He opens his mouth and has every intention of saying something, _anything, _but Riku beats him to it by striding forward. His hands reach around and hold Sora's face and, in one fluid moment--

Riku kisses him_._

* * *

:: | o | ::

* * *

Of _course_ they would run into each other; how else does life work? Karma's a bitch, Murphy's Law, they all point haphazardly to this moment as Roxas stands with his hands in his pants staring at a huge fire (how does it stay alive through the rain?) down at the island where he'd hoped he'd be able to clear his head, surrounded by teens with bottles inside bags. Their voices carried across the small bit of water that separated the island from the main body of land, and on this side, sitting on a log and watching the fire, sits Axel, just as soaking wet as Roxas is.

When he notices he isn't alone, he turns his head slightly and a sad sort of grin makes its way onto his face.

"Hey kid."

"Hi," he squeaks, and the sound is so pathetic even he cringes. But Axel just laughs and scoots over on the seat; Roxas hesitates, but takes it, his rear on the furthest edge of the log possible without falling off. Axel notices this and chuckles again.

"It's been awhile."

"Don't," Roxas quickly says, shaking his head. "Don't…I don't want to talk about that. I just…no. Anything but that."

Axel nods from beside him, his eyes dancing in the light of the bonfire. The rain falls harder, and the fire starts to diminish, and the words are sticking to his tongue. This is something he cannot mess up.

"But…I do have to…thank you. For…you know what you did. So, no big deal, just, uhm, thank you."

Axel is silent, and Roxas tries not to let his face betray his discomfort. Because, really, he owes Axel so much more than a simple little 'thank you.' So much more, but he's just a kid making minimum wage, and what could Axel, who's got to be, what, twenty-something, want with someone like him?

So, like an idiot, he finds himself sputtering again; "Really, I mean it. Thank you."

"I believe you, kiddo. I know," he says, this time grinning widely. "If you really mean it, though, you'd let me buy you an ice cream. Sea salt's your favorite, if I remember correctly."

His head whips up in surprise, and he shrugs, glancing away. "Long memory."

"I--"

"Come on. I'll take you to a really cool place to eat it."

"No--"

"It'll be good for you, I swear."

Before Roxas can even object, Axel grabs his small wrist in his hand, and _oh, _his hands are big and warm, and he's a little freaked at the feeling of their size, grasping him so tightly like an iron shackle, but the _warmth, _radiating like a soothing fire…that he can live with.

Twilight Town at night is much like any shore town in the summertime; bustling and alive despite the inclement weather with neon lights and knock-off stores, overpriced games and less-than-sanitary jewelry to buy. Mostly teens and young adults, and a few kids who've managed to sneak out at bedtime, stroll the streets, and Scrooge's Ice Cream Parlour is as crowded as usual. Axel slithers his way up to the line, though, and stands to the side. He clears his throat, and Scrooge himself stops serving a random customer and rolls his thin eyes.

"Of course 'ye demand yer favor tonight," he grumbles, and Axel holds up two fingers with a sly grin and a wink in Roxas' direction, and the blonde pretends to ignore this.

"Favor?" he asks quietly.

"His nephews were stealing ice cream when Scrooge thought he wasn't looking. So I, being the incredibly talented inventor I am, got him some special locks--only sold in Traverse Town's first district market--that the sprats can't pick."

"Traverse Town?"

"This little nobody town between here and the Hollow Bastion."

"They call it the Radiant Garden now, if you haven't noticed," Roxas mumbles, and Axel raises a small eyebrow; Roxas, not for the first time since their reunion, glances at his tattoo's.

"Well, when _I _lived there, it was Hollow Bastion."

This time, Roxas cannot keep the curiosity out of his voice; he's always been fascinated with stories from the capital city of the nation, and he glances up out of the corner of his eye to disguise his intense interest.

"You lived there?"

"Yup. For a few years, actually."

"Did you ever see the King?"

"Here's yer ice cream," Scrooge huffs, and Axel beams and grasps the two ice pops by the little sticks. He doesn't give a reply to the question and instead hands Roxas his ice cream and starts to walk quickly out of the door. Roxas follows, hurrying his steps to keep up.

"How far away is this place?"

"You ask a _lot_ of questions, you know that?"

Roxas flushes and falls silent, and Axel turns his head with a grin.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. That's what dates are for, right? Ask lots of questions. Get to know one another better. Something along those lines, not that I'd know, since I usually skip this part."

Despite the sly sarcasm in his voice, Roxas snaps his head up and glares at the redhead.

"This isn't a date."

"Oh? I bought you sustenance, we held hands, and we're about to go to a _hopelessly_ romantic setting to enjoy our sea-salt ice cream."

"Then I'm not going," Roxas slows his walking down, and tears off the wrapper to his treat. Axel rolls his eyes and grabs his wrist again, pulling the reluctant boy along with him.

"Take a joke, sprat. Let's go."

And then they're taking off, walking up the steep streets. Only a single drop of sea-salt ice cream dribbles onto his fingers during the whole walk.

* * *

:: | o | ::

* * *

The next time Demyx sees Zexion, it's nearing midnight and rain is easing up, drizzling lightly now, and it's thundering like there's no tomorrow, and, worst of all, he's been kicked out of the apartment he shares with his girlfriend, all because of making some insignificant scrap of a comment that maybe she's too harsh on him.

"Because kicking me out is really proving your point," he grumbles, holding his precious sitar in one hand and a duffel bag containing most of his possessions inside of it; he'd have to go back for the others when she wasn't home.

He sighs, slightly contented as he sits at the 24/7 diner and bar, cutely named '7th Heaven.' A busty waitress comes to take his order, and he simply asks for water with lemon, because, along with his razor and toothbrush, his wallet is still in his apartment.

Scratch that--in _Larxene's_ apartment.

He sips at the drink and tries to figure out who he knows with a house, an apartment, a _floor_; his sources are very few in number and reliance. His family is long since gone, and he doesn't care about that, because they loved him in their time alive and that's all someone can ask for.

And, like a savior, Zexion sits down across from him, looking as deadpan (and sexy, Demyx mentally notes, can't forget sexy) as usual. Demyx smiles brightly, but Zexion places his briefcase onto the table, and snaps it open. His eyes are analytical, but bright also, and Demyx never before noticed the strange but lovely color they are.

"My name is Zexion, and I think you're the person I've been looking for."

"I am?" Demyx raises an eyebrow, sounding both flattered and sarcastic at the same time. His curiosity over the situation piques and twists with the oddity of his current predicament, and he can't help but notice the way Zexion has to tick his head slightly to keep his pretty hair from obstructing his vision.

"I believe so. As a bit of a preface…I'm acting on an investigation that was claimed a little while ago. Unfortunately, I work in the Radiant Garden, which, as you may know, has been dealing with civil disrupt, and that's why this has taken so long."

When he realizes that this isn't going in the _exact_ direction he was hoping for, Demyx's posture deflates, but his eyes burn with interest and amusement, which annoys Zexion just a bit, but he hides it well.

"What kind of investigation?"

"…Is this you?"

And then, everything happens in slow motion, because the events line up and he realizes that there's only one possible investigation he could even begin to be involved in. He pulls up an envelope and reaches inside, his thin, nimble fingers grasping something that Demyx knows is a picture, or a copy of a picture, and before he even realizes what he's done his hand shoots out to grasp his wrist and stop him from doing so. His ears are suddenly ringing and his throat is parched and he shakes his head, all of the prior light-heartedness and humor fading away.

"Yea, it's me," he answers quietly. "You don't need to--I know what…yea. It's me. Not all of them. I'm only in a few and--"

"Your eyes have more green than the blue ones in most of them," Zexion says quietly, his eyes flickering between Demyx's two eyes, and a strange expression crosses his face; looking almost pained, and extremely sympathetic, but enough so that Demyx realizes that, clearly, Zexion doesn't feel sorry for people very often. And if he does, he certainly doesn't seem to notice how to handle it. Such a thought can't help but lighten his mood, and he lets the smile bloom on face before he can stop it.

Zexion's lips tighten when he sees this, and his eyes soften.

"I didn't want to involve you in this, or the other. But we've got three suspects in custody and--"

"What the hell took you so damn long?" Demyx whispers, and the sound is sharp with emotion despite his attempt at a joking nature. "God…it's about time."

"I'm s--"

"My name is Demyx," he says, his face directed towards the table, and when he peers up there aren't any tears in his eyes, but only happiness, like he's just had the greatest day in the world. "And I want you to buy me a coffee, because this is a long story and is going to take quite some time."

* * *

:: | End 4 | ::

* * *


	5. The Divine Art of Wooing

AN: Hello again! We are very pleased to have so many alert requests as well as some legitimate feedback for this story, so thank you very much; in response I've kicked my darling's butt into gear, driving him like a laborer to finish this chapter, which is almost TWICE as long as the other chapters!! Kudos to you, M., for being such a diligent slave to my lashings. :3 Also special thanks to Kitten for the usage of her computer when ours both seemed to be going so slowly (too much PORN, Honey!)(jkloveyou) and for giving us a brand new font to play with!!

So ode, to the +2 reviewers: cookies-n'-milk-yo and Envious Invidia!

On another note, Honey is still rather hesitant about these next few chapters; they're sketched out and I'm pumped for what's to come, and I hope you all are too. If you wish to see more faster, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!! And if not...well, the show must go on, but it'll be lagging and painful and I'll twist the best surprises into honeycombs.

But not really; this story's too brilliant for me to even joke about such things.

Speaking of brilliant, I read a fantastic story today, and I hope that I'm not doing anything illegal by telling you all to go out and read 'Boys' by Casey V., particular if you're an old geezer like me who appreciates good, oldschool music, or if you're like Honeyboo and enjoys the worn softness that no Snuggle-softener can create of flannel. (Mm.)

I digress: REVIEW AND BE REWARDED!!

Kisses, pookies!

~Soupie~  
~M.w.H.~

**

* * *

**

**Wildfire**

**

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**

:: |Chapter Five| ::

:: |The Divine Art of Wooing| ::

* * *

**T****here is **a saying in this great world that is as follows: _"Ukichokoza nyoka, hauna budi hujitayarisha kuumwa nayo," _or, for those of you who aren't fluent in Swahili, "If one rattles the snake, one should be prepared for the bite." This clearly indicates the importance of knowing one's battles, and preparing for their reactions accordingly. If one had any intention of going near a snake, one should be well-equipped with anti-venom and a large blunt object in case things get out of hand and the snake must be immediately destroyed.

Now, this quotation is relevant because Cloud Strife, though unintentionally, rattled a metaphorical snake named Yuffie by almost killing her roommate and one of her puppies. And Cloud only wishes he had something to soothe the sting of her venomous glare and a blunt object to shut her up with.

"I can't _believe_ you almost ran them over, like dead possums on the street! Do you have any idea of how worried I was, standing in the kitchen and watching my hubby run out like a maniac into the middle of the street--"

"I'm not really her husband," Squall murmurs beneath the rain of curses, sitting beside his blonde guest on the couch with a whimpering puppy in his lap. Three have made their way onto Cloud's lap, and he absently strokes them while trying to bite back a small grin of amusement. His assets--wallet, ID, a keychain and pocket change, are strewn about the coffee table before him, as Yuffie requested forcefully that he empty the contents of his clothing, else he try and sabotage the family even more by weapons or harmful paraphernalia.

"--Stupid, good for nothing moron who couldn't hit the damn breaks and save both him me a coronary or two--"

"She has no history of heart condition, and neither do I."

"--and killed, killed! The poor, innocent puppy with his little whiskery face and--"

"Yuffie," the brunette speaks up finally and presses the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. "Let's not wake the neighbors, huh?"

"But--"

"It's fine. I'm truly sorry for disrupting your evening," Cloud says flatly, and Yuffie rolls her eyes.

"Yea, whatever. I'm going back to bed. Let yourself out, and try to watch where you're going."

Yuffie starts off, and a few puppies actually follow her, and the two men listen to their little paws pattering against the wooden stairs of the creaky house. Moments pass, and Cloud doesn't know what to say, and Squall doesn't either.

"…You know, I could have killed you."

"You didn't," Squall grunts, and stands. "I'm making some coffee. You want a cup?"

"Thank you," Cloud can't help but look down at his lap, his cheeks tickling in shame at the entire situation. "Seriously, though. I could have flattened you and your dog. I almost did. What if I hadn't been paying attention, and I looked away for just that brief second and--"

"But you didn't. So I see no reason to dwell on it," Squall grunts, eyes averting bashfully. The puppies in Cloud's lap yip and nuzzle his hands, eager for the attention from a stranger.

"…How come you have so many dogs?"

"Personal preference."

"Oh," Cloud looks down again, awkward. He feels like every time his and Squall's eyes connect, sparks go off inside his blood vessels, sending his belly into uncomfortable gyrations and his heartbeat into overdrive.

'_What the hell…?_'

As he sits alone in the room, he takes observation. There is a fireplace, which is bizarre, as most houses he'd been in lack fireplaces in lieu of central heat and other conveniences. There are several heaps of cloth and old, lumpy pillows in one corner of the room, acting, undoubtedly, as doggie beds. The cream colored carpet and neutral-manila of the walls hint a lack of intelligence on common house décor, or at the very least a lack of effort to make a comfortable setting. At least, that was Cloud's first impression of the place.

The warm, bitter scent of vanilla coffee reminds Cloud of the intimidating figure in the other room, and he shoves his things back into his pocket and stands, careful to place the puppies on the couch. They nip his heels as they follow him into the kitchen. Squall is crouched by the fridge, and Cloud can't stop his eyes from sliding down those leather pants and Squall's ass--

"Cream or sugar?"

"Both, please," he practically stutters, and clears his throat to remind himself to not look like a total moron. Squall doesn't seem to notice, and he sets to work preparing the cups, and it doesn't take long before Cloud is melting into the sweet, thick taste. He happens to notice Squall takes his coffee black, and the strong smells blend together nicely.

"Cloud," he remembers suddenly. "I'm Cloud."

"Squall," the response is quick and expectant, and bordering on a smile.

Silence seems to be the safest bet, since Squall doesn't seem to be a talker, and Cloud is relieved by this because he's not so great at talking anyway. They take turns glancing at each other, and each time they do, Cloud feels the fire burn He finishes his coffee and Squall walks him to the door, polite in his distance.

"Thanks. For the coffee," he adds stupidly, and Squall only nods and opens the door.

Their eyes meet for just a second again, and _damn, _there's that lightning rushing from his eyes to Cloud's, like two magnets trying to be pulled together and kept at bay only by will and self-control. So, he does the only thing he can think of; he bolts down the lawn to his car with his hands shoved firmly and safely in his pockets, trying not to think about the eyes he can feel staring after him.

Squall watches the peculiar blonde jog across the street and step into his car with a controlled expression on his face, and continues watching until the car is out of sight. He steps carefully and with great composure back into his house, shuts the door, and bolts it locked behind him. He's not sure how late it is, and the coffee has done an effective job of brushing away the grogginess of too-late evening or too-early morning.

He notices something, then. On the table is a keychain he has never seen before--a small, fluffy, poorly-sewn chocobo head. He holds it in the palm of his hand and realizes that, of course, it must be the blonde's.

And, in the darkness, he allows a deviant, satisfied grin to form on his face while his fingers gently fold around the object that acts as a promise that he and the mysterious, electric blonde will meet again.

**

* * *

**

::|O|::

* * *

When Roxas finally gets home, it is well after daybreak but still early enough in the morning that relieves him of the stress of having to explain where he was, because no one would _dare _be awake at 5:54 in the morning at the Hikari residence. It's positively unheard of.

As he walks up the stairs, being especially careful to avoid the creaky one, he mentally replays the past few hours in his mind.

He and Axel had spent the first small part of their little adventure getting soaked beneath the cloudy night, and Roxas didn't mind at all, because silly things like rain never bothered him. Axel told him stories from the Radiant Garden, the one place Roxas has always dreamed of going. It's the capital city to be at, with marketplaces and valleys and crystals and a huge castle that's run like a machine.

For hours, he allowed Roxas to pry about whatever he wanted. Except the King.

"Never knew him, that Ansem," he'd said. "Heard he's a real wise-ass, though."

Roxas let him talk, listening for hours after he'd eaten his ice treat, listening with childlike enthusiasm to his stories about the library he'd stolen from and the waterways he'd broken into, the people he met and the fires he'd started.

"You sure like to ask a lot of questions," Axel had exhausted his motor-mouth, leaning back on his long, wiry arms. "Can I ask you one?"

"Shoot," Roxas had said, almost regretting it when he remembered how he knew Axel in the first place. He had to clench his fists and his belly to keep from thinking about that. Axel opened his mouth for a second, the question prepared and ready to fire, but he stopped short when he saw the look on Roxas' face. Something burned in his irises, something deep and warm and intense, and Roxas felt as though there were flames near his face, heating his cheeks and making his eyes moisten, not like he was about to cry, but just like suddenly there was too much _something _in the man's gaze.

"Roxas?"

The blonde breaks from his inner thoughts by the broken, vulnerable voice of his brother, and he instantly snaps into concern mode. Sora is _never_ awake this early in the morning. He practically flies into the room and sees Sora under his covers, curled up in a ball and peeking out with watery eyes.

"I'm sorry. I thought that was you. I've been waiting for you to come home."

"Why? What happened?" he strides over and kneels before the bed, peering into the darkness of the covers. Sora sniffles.

"Something happened tonight, when it was just Riku and me. He…I…"

Sora is silent for a long moment, and this worries Roxas to the point of physical agony. He hates to see his brother in any state of despair, and it usually doesn't go past dismay for killing a bug or waking up to a rainy day, let alone _this._

"Riku…he--"

"C'mon, spit it out," Roxas pleads, tugging at the covers.

"--_sstme._"

"What? Stop mumbling in front of the covers and just say it."

"…he kissed me. Riku kissed me. On the _lips._"

"Oh," Roxas' eyes widen slightly, a flush decorating his cheeks for his brother at the mental image. Not that he didn't see it coming--just the pure, unadulterated meekness of Sora's voice made him wonder if they did much else.

"Uhm…what kind of kiss?"

"I…a wet one? I don't know, but we were just talking one second and then, bam, he just leans forward and--and…and then after, he just looked so cold and pale, and I've never, ever seen him look like that Roxas! Never! And he just apologized and stood up, and started to walk away. And I tried to stop him, of course! I grabbed his arm and he snapped away from me, and he just…told me to let him go home and forget what had happened and I can't, I couldn't--I don't want to…"

Sora buries his face into the pillows in misery, and Roxas is left helpless to do anything but rub the quivering ball of emotions as he whimpers in sadness and confusion, a look of genuine sympathy across his face.

"It's alright, it's alright. He was probably just scared of your reaction, okay?"

"No, it means…I must be a bad kisser!"

"Sora," Roxas laughs breathily, still rubbing his brother's back. "I highly doubt that. Even if you were the worst kisser in the world, I think Riku would believe you were the best anyway, just because you're _you._"

"I love him," Sora chokes, and the sound wraps strings around Roxas' heart and tugs it till it hurts. "I love him so much, and I was so happy…and he just--just--"

"Everything's fine," he murmurs in comfort. "Don't worry. I'm here. Everything will be fine."

**

* * *

**

::|O|::

* * *

Zexion doesn't sleep for six straight nights. He listens to Demyx and finds out exactly the pieces of information he needs to hear, stringing the evidence to the crime and back again, working nonstop at his desk beneath the bright lights, his case file carefully and orderly aligned in front of him.

He only stops when he hears the clink of a coffee mug on a marble coaster, and peers up to see Demyx's sleepy smile.

"Hey," he murmurs groggily, and Zexion forces himself to look at the blue coffee mug instead, because there's something soft and sweet about Demyx when he first wakes up, so much gentler and calmer and cuter than the musician once he's awake. It's private and pretty and he can't get enough of it, but he'll never tell this to anyone. "I made you some coffee."

"Thanks," he says and his thick voice quivers at the end, though he doesn't know quite why; it's nice to be doted on sometimes, he realizes. He's been alone since he can remember, and he's never needed anyone to pour him a cup of coffee in the morning or remind him to eat something just before his belly growls, and to please, try and get some sleep.

The only problem is Zexion can't sleep; he never can when he's working on a case. Sleep feels like wasted time to him, and he hates wasting any time, especially since this one has a deadline and he's got to find the other blonde before the court date if he wants to succeed.

"How on earth can you wear long sleeves in this weather?" the Sitarist asks, chuckling. He doesn't answer, so the blonde clears his throat.

"…Did you find him yet? The other boy?" Demyx asks gently, and Zexion shakes his head.

"Today I'm expecting the lists of kids that went to the camp to be faxed over here. It took a while for me to get a waiver of permission to even ask for those sorts of records, let alone to actually be able to find them. A lot has happened in six years."

"You're telling me," Demyx grins, and runs a hand through his blonde, unstyled hair. He's been crashing at his home since that night when everything was explained. It had been at first just an act of politeness, considering the place was closing and they were practically being swept outside, and Zexion continued to listen to him through the ride home. The blonde slept on the couch, and claimed he wanted to stay and see the investigation through.

"Zexion?"

"Mm?"

"I'm really glad you found me. That this is getting…fixed."

And he looks so vulnerable then, just like the kid he was when this whole fucked up situation happened, but healthier, less pale and scared than the boy that had been in the pictures. His eyes are still soft from slumbers and his lips turn in a smile and he drinks the milk from his mug. Zexion knows its milk because he's observed many things about Demyx and he has noticed that, though he makes it for Zexion, Demyx himself isn't fond of coffee.

What he is fond of, though, is his sitar, and sometimes he sneakily tries to practice without Zexion noticing, in fear of being told not to play. He plays quietly and gently, but as his fingers race over the thin strings and he plucks with increasing intensity, his music swoops into a crescendo, and his head flops down at the neck and he closes his eyes and lets the vibrations rock through him, underneath his skin, in him.

And to Zexion, the sound is calming, like the sleep his body denies him.

But suddenly the fax machine lights up, a little blue bulb out of the corner of his eye, and a piece of paper is sucked into the machine. Both men in the room freeze and wait until, paper by paper, they come through.

He rises slowly, ever-controlled, and walks over to the machine. The papers are warm, and he skims through them with narrowed eyes. Each name has a small thumbnail of an image beside it, undoubtedly taken upon entering the camp, as some children still had lipstick smeared along their flushed cheeks. He searches frantically, impatient to find the face.

And he stumbles instead across Demyx, ten years old and grinning like a burst of stars just exploded in front of his eyes. His eyes are the same pretty color, and he's clearly excited for the summer ahead of him. And this picture makes Zexion's stomach cave in slightly, though he doesn't know why, as normally he's rather apathetic, and he passes the feeling off as being something he ate disagreeing with him.

"Here!" Demyx squeaks, and hands the page off to his companion, and Zexion's eyes immediately fall onto the image of the boy about a quarter of the way down the page, and he nods and tests the name on his tongue; "Roxas Hikari."

Demyx nods, solemnly. "Yea. _Roxas_. I'd forgotten his name…which is weird because they said it so much…he was their favorite."

**

* * *

**

::|O|::

* * *

The sound of a picture frame crashing to the ground from the wall goes unheard beneath the thick, heavy breathing of the brunette as he pushes his captive against that same wall, pushing his body against the blonde's and _god, _he's so hot, like his skin is on fire, every inch of it heating him in a way he's never felt before. Sharp gasps and thick, heated moans slide through his bruised lips, which part and he arches into Squall, desperate to rid them of even the slightest distance. Squall's hands are just the right size against his arms, pinning him there (as if Cloud would try and escape this beautiful torture--) and _GOD, _right there, that's it, _just like that--_

"S-Squall--" he starts, because it's almost too much; the heat and his heart slamming into his ribcage and his whole body throbbing with desire, and Squall only grunts and thrusts harder, pounding the blonde against the wall while his lips trail along his neck, and he stops to bite and he hits something inside Cloud, something that causes sparks, and short, sharp cries escape his lips. Something feral and deep slips from Squall's lips and he tears them from Cloud's neck to meet his lips, and he hits _it _again, and again, and--

"Shit, holy--_mmf_!--_Squall!"_ he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as Squall starts on a pace so frantic it seems impossible, so fast and so hard and so perfect and he can't take it anymore, it's too much, too, too much--

"NG!"

He comes then, releasing his moans into Squall's mouth, which is so soft and so hot and he pushes his tongue inside of Cloud's mouth, mimicking their movements below as he continues slamming him against the wall, one hand entwined with his while the other wraps around his bare thigh, hiking him higher, even as he continues to come, moaning sexily.

He squeezes Squall's hand with his own and the other runs up and through Squall's hair, holding the back of his head, and this drives the brunette _wild--_his strangled moan is swallowed up by Cloud's greedy mouth, and Squall furiously continues bucking against him, and the sound of Cloud's body hitting the wall becomes a cadence, over and over again until Squall stops suddenly, and he's so deep inside of Cloud that the blonde whines as he comes again, ropes of white splattering on Squall's belly.

They sit there a moment, Cloud with his head back as he revels in the glory of the best sex he's ever had and Squall with his forehead on Cloud's shoulder, his hot breath brushing against his bare, smooth shoulder. After a moment, though, Cloud unhooks his legs from Squall's waist, letting his bare feet gently touch the hardwood. He winces when Squall moves with him, pulling out of him, and he wobbles uncertainly. Pain shoots up from his spine to his toes to his forehead, sharp and horrid, and Squall grabs him by the elbows to steady him.

"Wow," Cloud breathes, his eyes hooded beneath blonde lashes and his cheeks still flushed as drowsiness creeps along the edge of his consciousness. Squall chuckles and begins a trail of kisses up his cheek, letting his tongue press against his cheekbone just below his eye.

"Yuffie's not home for another two hours," he murmurs, and his voice is thick and husky, and Cloud feels a warm thread of desire tug roughly inside of him.

"You're going to be the death of me, Squall Leonheart," he breathes, exhausted. "I have to go. I'm meeting someone before work."

Squall exhales and pulls away, clearly disappointed and a little bothered by such a statement. He shrugs it off, though, and reaches for his pants. Their silence is less than comfortable as they both get dressed, and Squall throws himself onto the bed, hugging a pillow. Cloud hesitates before he leaves the room, and turns his head to watch the brunette. He's playing with the small keychain, the one of the chocobo, and Cloud has to bite back a small grin at the sight.

"…I guess…maybe I'll see you?"

Squall waits a moment and shrugs, and Cloud flinches from the coldness. He's never had a one night stand before that he's wanted to repeat, and maybe it's just the afterglow, but his mind is _blown_ and this soreness is so harsh and he feels like he's been beaten to a pulp, and _god, _it's so good, so freaking good, he wants to keep going until he can't move anymore.

Squall doesn't say anything, sitting on his elbows while he flips the keychain around in his fingers. It had been quite a shock when he'd received a phone call from the brunette, asking him to come over and retrieve it.

It had been more of a shock when he'd walked into the house and opened his mouth to greet the brunette, only to be kissed so deeply he swooned.

And then the shredding of the clothes began.

And then, they somehow climbed up the stairs and did _the nasty_.

And then, without even a two minute recovery period, they did it _again_.

And then, after pausing only for some water, they tried it against a wall.

Cloud bites his lip and grasps the doorknob when Squall speaks again.

"Yuffie's spending the night at her friend's tomorrow," his voice is still rough and husky, but there's something sweeter to it, and Cloud can't stop the corners of his lips from quirking up, especially since he knows Squall can't see. He shrugs.

"Alright. I'll drop by after work."

Squall shrugs, clutching the keychain, and just before Cloud leaves he swears he sees a smirk on the brunette's face, just for a second, before it ghosts away into a mask of indifference.

"Whatever."

**

* * *

**

::|O|::

* * *

Saturday comes, and Roxas actually eats lunch at home with his family. Sora is silent the entire time, prodding his food with his fork and answering his mother's questions with simple 'yes' and 'no' replies, which is unusual for him, because nine times out of ten he's babbling happily about this or that.

"Honey, what's wrong? Do you have a fever? You've been moping around all week," Aoi Hikari stands beside her eldest son, placing a hand on his forehead while rubbing his back. He shakes his head, filled with melancholy, and Roxas feels his throat go dry at the sight of his brother being doted on like that. He forces himself to turn away, gripping the plate so hard he turns white-knuckled.

"No, I'm okay. I'm just tired…I think I'll go sleep, okay?"

"Alright. I'm here if you need me," she murmurs and kisses the top of his head, and he gives her a strong hug before retreating upstairs. Roxas gently places his plate in the sink, and his mother sighs heavily.

"Roxas, has Sora mentioned anything to you? He's not himself, and I'm a little concerned…"

He knows his mother loves him. He does. He believes it with every fiber in his being. But still…she notices when Sora is in distress. She knows right away, and offers her ear, and she's so pretty in the sunlight, even though she's almost forty…his throat tightens and he shrugs and bites his lip. Temptation to confess what happened to her, to confide in his mother, his beautiful mother…

…To have to burden her with such a terrible story, he reminds himself. He couldn't ever do it.

'_Especially now,'_ he thinks to himself with a small sigh. _'What good could come of it now? It's been years. It'd just be a waste of time.'_

"Roxas? Not you too!" she chuckles and stands beside him. She's only an inch or so taller now, and skinny, with Sora's hair color that curls just like Roxas' does when its wet, and his heart swells, just because he loves her so much.

"I think something happened with Riku," he hears himself say. "But I think they'll both be alright."

"With Riku?" she seems torn between asking Roxas to break his trust as a Sora's confidant, and snooping deeper into the situation. Fortunately, she doesn't pry anymore. "Oh. Well I hope it doesn't effect their college life…"

It's so warm in the kitchen, and the clock reads 2:34, and it's a glorious gift from God, because Roxas has work and he can't stand to stand there, loving his mother so much and unable to say it without the risk of everything else tumbling out of his mouth as well.

"…I have work," he ends up muttering, and hurries to leave the room, palms sweating and chilled to the bone. He grabs his bag and runs out the door. Cloud's already left, so he has to walk, but the warm breeze of early July calms him considerably. As he passes he reminds himself how to breathe; in through the nose, out through the mouth, discreet and quiet and no, you're _not _having a panic attack, you're just a little rattled.

"Blondie!"

That nasally voice is unmistakable, and Axel pulls up beside him in a truck that must have seen it's golden years AGES ago, smirking playfully.

"Hey, kiddo. Need a lift? I've got _candy_ in the back…"

"You know they arrest people like you on an hourly basis, right?"

"See I've heard that, but the trick is to butter the kids up _before _you flat out kidnap them."

"That's sick," he snorts, but he's stopped walking. Axel looks as rugged as ever, wearing a black tank top that makes his skin look whiter than Roxas is used to noticing. He climbs around, hopping into the passenger seat, which is all ripped and held together only with duct tape. His camouflage cargo shorts have big pockets, and Roxas can practically smell the cigarettes in his pocket.

"Where to?"

"Setting's."

"Hn," Axel purses his lips for a moment, one hand resting on the steering wheel. Roxas watches the tendons in his arm and the top of his hand wiggle as he drums patterns absently, humming along with the radio to a song that Roxas has never heard before.

"…Nope."

"What?"

"I said nope."

"What? You're kidding. Don't be such an asshole," Roxas growls, shooting him an annoyed glance. The look melts off his face when notices that Axel is smirking, but his eyes are serious.

"We're going to run away together. How would you like that?"

"I wouldn't, at all. Pull over."

Axel looks determined, and he presses his foot harder on the gas pedal. The car shakes as it speeds up, hitting 60, 70, 85...he shifts in discomfort, trying to suppress the uneasiness that's growing in his belly.

"Slow down, you idiot."

"C'mon, kid. I've got money like you've never seen before. Wherever you want to go. You like Hollow Bastion, don't you? We can travel there, if you want. Anywhere. Just…I'm sick of this town already, and I've barely just gotten here."

Roxas feels something hitch in his lungs as he looks at Axel. His green eyes are bright and determined and beautiful--he stops himself as this word comes to him, and shivers from the shock of such a strong thought.

"Alright, fine. I'll run away with you. But at least slow down a little."

They don't drive for very long--a half hour at the most, outside of the gates of Twilight Town and into the forest-green area surrounding. They drive through the foggy mist from humidity, and by the time they arrive at a large clearing sweat is clinging to both of their bodies, slicking them both down. Roxas can't stop looking at Axel's arms until the car shudders to a halt, and seems to exhale in relief, sinking slightly.

And before he knows it, Axel swings his door open and grins wide and inviting. "Welcome to my home!"

It's less of a house than it is an abandoned mansion, complete with an enormous gate in the front and a padlock that's the size of Roxas' head. Tentatively, the blonde peeks through the iron to see the overgrowth across the entrance, thick ropes of ivy crawling up into one of the mansion's broken windows. He raises his eyebrows and turns his head. Axel looks smug.

"Well, what do you think?"

"You live in an abandoned mansion?"

"Free rent, and no one ever comes around here. They say it's haunted, and squatters like myself can't get through the gates."

"Then how do you--"

"Where there is a will," he says with mystery in his voice. "There is a way."

He nods towards an especially dark looking thicket to the side, but Roxas hesitates, and after a moment Axel takes the initiative while rolling his eyes and murmuring 'baby' underneath his breath. He pushes them out of a way and Roxas sees the wall is built around a huge, thick oak tree, and that there is a small sliver of space to enter from.

"Huh."

They make their way into the building, and Roxas is surprised by its hugeness. There are magnificent grand staircases that loop up to the second floor, one or two of which have fallen through. There is a shattered glass case in the middle of the room, and across the way is a beautiful glass window which leads into an extravagant albeit decrepit yard with overgrown roses and flowers.

Axel immediately heads upstairs and into one of the rooms, and Roxas follows; there's a king-sized mattress on the floor covered in a blanket that's mostly red, but with patches of strange colored material, as if Axel had sewn it himself.

He feels guilty when a strong burst of fear builds inside of him; he's alone in this house with a near stranger, miles away from anyone who could hear him scream for help, or to run to. But one glance at the redhead and his fears are squelched; he doesn't know much about Axel, but he trusts him almost thoughtlessly, which is odd, as Roxas doesn't trust many people with anything.

But, those years ago, Axel saved him.

So what's not to trust?

"You need a nanny or a wife or something."

"You can be my wife, Roxy," Axel snorts. "Kitchen's downstairs--make me a sandwich."

"Don't be a dick," he grumbles, and kicks an empty cardboard box that's near the bedroom. The sheets are black and the blankets and pillows are thick and red, and it looks cozy despite its discombobulated setup. "I like this place."

And Axel smiles, peering at Roxas from the corners of his eyes. "I know. It's charming, huh? Listen," he says, and suddenly his voice is jerky and blocked off, and he awkwardly scratches the back of his head and shoves one hand into his pocket. Roxas watches a bead of sweat roll down from his jaw to his neck, over his Adam's apple, down into the fabric of his shirt. He's so transfixed by the sight he almost doesn't hear Axel's voice, but he does, and snaps his head up.

"Don't…tell anyone about this place, alright? And I'll make you a deal. In exchange for your silent compliance, you can come here anytime you want. There's a shortcut through a hole in the big wall that separates the town from the forest edges. I'll show you where, and you can skip work or whatever."

And he hates it, hates the softness in Axel's voice and in his eyes, hates the way it pulls at his belly and makes him cringe in discomfort. After all, why should he be treated any differently than another person? Why should he be allowed to know about this place, when he hasn't done anything to deserve Axel's trust?

"I like working," Roxas replies, and walks inside of the bedroom. There aren't any personal items--all of his clothes are in a large walk-in closet, and they take up about one fifth of the space. There are no photographs, either, and this is something that he's almost grateful for.

"Hey, I wasn't kidding before, wifey, I'm starving. So unless you want to put that bed to use, let's go eat."

The kitchen is square and not too tiny, but not very large either, and there's a table, but only one chair, so Axel props himself up on the counter, gesturing for Roxas to sit.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Again with the questions. Didn't you ever hear that curiosity killed the cat?"

"I heard that satisfaction brought it back," he retorts, and heads over to the refrigerator. It occurs to him that he really should feel bad that he's not at work, that he's pulling a 'no-call-no-show,' the ones he hates from other people. Yet he knows Cid won't be too angry; he was against making Roxas work that much since the start. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the contents of the kitchen.

"Beer…and bread. Big fan of wheat?"

"Sorry, I don't need Emeril-style food to get through the day. There's peanut butter somewhere in there, too, and ice pops in the freezer."

It seems so strange to Roxas that a grown adult would keep ice pops for himself, and it's then that he remembers a question he'd meant to ask.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-three."

Eight years. There's a gap of eight years between the two, and it seems like a lifetime away from Roxas, and he suddenly remembers that he's just some fifteen year old kid, and it feels incredibly awkward, just standing there in this adult's kitchen in a haunted mansion, knowing that he's so much older.

"You're…really immature for your age," Roxas finally snorts, and all of the awkward dissipates with the sound of his companion's laughter.

"We can't all be born old philosophers like you were, Roxy," he says, and his voice sounds a little hollow, and Roxas hates this. A surge of unwarranted anger bursts through him and he ignores it, concentrates instead on the feeling of the knife spreading peanut butter over bread. It's a comforting gesture, just sliding the substance along, smoothing it out perfectly. When he finishes, he hands the sandwich to Axel, who takes it in his hands and Roxas notices those tendons again.

He remembers, in a lightning-bolt instant, feeling them stretch and contract beneath his fingertips, the smell of the musky, dark underground, and the sound of the creaking floorboards above them; the flash of light between the creases, not enough for him to see the stranger whose hand he was gripping, except for a sliver of white skin beside his tanned fingers.

He shivers and pulls himself from the memory, sitting down without a sandwich.

"You want one?"

"No thanks. I'm full. Ate before I left."

"You should eat more. You're too skinny."

He looks down in puzzlement at his figure; he's not thick, but he's certainly not skinny. Not like Sora is, at any rate.

"Nuh-uh."

"Yea, you are."

"You're one to talk," he snorts, glaring at Axel's thin waist. "You're all…skeletal looking and stuff."

"Skeletal!" Axel barks, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Not so much. Life of a vagabond, I guess one might say."

"I thought you said you lived in the city."

"I never mentioned having an actual _house._"

"You were homeless?"

"You might call it that. I liked to say the whole city was my home. And I fed off of its charisma!"

"That's stupid. You were homeless…_homeless! _Like a bum!" And Roxas doesn't know why, but it's so fitting, so perfectly ridiculous that he throws his head back and _laughs_. The sound feels like taffy being pulled straight out of his mouth, echoing in the room--he shrieks with it until warmth stings his eyes, and the compulsion is lost. There's a dull ache in his belly, because he hasn't laughed like that in so long, and it's rendered him nearly breathless and red-faced, but his soft, diminishing smile remains when he gets around to looking at Axel's face.

His eyes are burning, _throbbing, _and he looks like he's got something he wants to say so badly, like he's so taken aback by Roxas actually laughing at him, and he suddenly grins and puts a hand on Roxas' head, ignoring the involuntary flinch from the blonde. Roxas only peers up at him, cheeks warm.

"That sounded like it felt nice," he states, as if it were a simple observation. Roxas lets his eyes drop to Axel's stomach, and he nods once, embarrassed and nervous and his hand is heavy and warm on Roxas' head, and he doesn't think he likes it, but he doesn't want him to stop, either. It's so strange and confusing, so he shrugs Axel off of him and turns around.

"C'mon. Show me the back yard."

**

* * *

**

: End 5 :

* * *


	6. Interlude in Green

AN: Hello darlings! So I know that Honey and I have been changing the summary to the story quite often in hopes of luring in some more readers. Some feedback on which ones are most effective would be nice, or if any of you lovely darlings think you could summarize better than I or Honey, we'd really appreciate it! And as a Christmas present for you all, I locked Honey in the closet and forced him to finish going over this chapter, and then when let out Honey returned the favor to me that I might edit in time for the twenty-fifth. Unfortunately we're a day late, but it's only been ten days since our last update so I think all would be willing to forgive. Also, we hope you wouldn't mind our considering this a Christmas present, since both Honey and myself are against political correctness. :3

So Merry Christmas to all; in particular to Orcadia, SeReNa, Envious Invidia, H3manga00, Hihothedairyo, cookies-n'-milk-yo, and Syndari for reviewing!

As to the other people who are reading this: it's the Christmas season and you should **review!** :D

Kisses, pookie!

~Soupie~  
~M.w.H.~

**

* * *

**

Wildfire

* * *

:: |Chapter Six| ::

:: |Interlude in Green| ::

* * *

**S****ora** Hikari stands at the door of 28 Yevon Way with sweating palms and Goosebumps up and down his arms. Despite the night's promising shade, it's still humid, yet the chills that run through him are almost violent.

"_I'm…just…forget about it. Just forget that happened, alright?"_

Forget? How could he possibly forget something like that happened? That moment, that brief instance where Riku's cool lips pressed to his, making sparks appear behind his eyes and that taste, that mixture of sea salt and sweetness, tangy, _delectable, _unforgettable.

"_Ri…ku?"_

"_Sora, I--oh god, I…I'm sorry, I'm sorry I--that I did that."_

"_W-Wait! Riku!"_

"_Sora, just…go home. I'm…just…forget about it."_

It's a starless night, he can't help but noticing. He peers up at the sky and tries to push Riku's suddenly cold voice from his ears, from his mind, but as he tries to dampen his thoughts in preparation for seeing his friend again they only ring louder and louder.

"_Forget about it."_

"_I--I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I--"_

The door slides open so suddenly that it makes him jump, and his heart plummets like a gem into the sea when he sees that the butler isn't the one to answer the door; it's Riku's mother.

She is incredibly thin and elegant looking, like a queen from a time long ago. Her hair is light blonde and her eyes are Riku's green. Her beauty is ageless and graceful, yet her eyes are stone-like and cold, as is her frigid posture. Sora has done nothing but his best to please her and try and get on her good side, but it never seemed to lessen her dislike for him.

"Mr. Hikari," she said, and her voice is sharp and thin like glass. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Uh--I--hi," he stumbles, flushing. "May I speak to Riku?"

"He's not home right now," she says, flat and unapologetic.

"Oh. W-Well, can I leave a message for him?"

She looks exasperated and Sora glances down, face flushing. He waits for some sort of response, and finally she begins to shut the door, murmuring, "Good day, Mr. Hikari," and Sora mentally tries to calculate how difficult it would be to scale the wall to Riku's window, since he's clearly not going to be able to use the front door like most people.

"Mother," Riku's voice cuts in. "What are you doing?"

She looks down at Sora through the crack that's still open, and he stares back, vulnerable and horribly terrified of the woman. Riku and her have never gotten along, and Sora can understand why; she's impossible to please, and he's watched his best friend struggle with trying since he was much younger. "Excuse me," she murmurs. "I must have been mistaken." And, just like that, she exits, her heels clicking away.

And Sora stands at the door with Riku on the other side, neither daring to look at each other.

"…Will you--"

"I was--"

They both start at the same time, and then stop, and then grin, unable to shake off the familiar feeling of knowing each other far too well, despite this new, strange, awkward situation they've been thrust into. Because it's always been like this, always, and now everything is changing, and they're standing on the edge of something totally different and it's so uncomfortable and bizarre.

"Look, Sora. I…" Riku peers up at him, and he looks torn in his eyes, and he lowers his gaze a moment before bringing it up. His eyes are dull. "I really didn't mean to do what I did. Seriously. It was totally spontaneous and weird and I'm--"

"Sorry," Sora finishes, his belly flipping uncomfortably. "B-But, Riku, I…I don't think you should--"

"Don't," Riku grins, but it's only half there. "Let's please just forget the whole thing happened, okay? I don't want that sort of…uh, relationship," his voice is so strangled, and it hurts Sora to hear it because he had been hoping so much, _so much, _and everything is flattened beneath the weight of Riku's words, and his throat is so dry and his eyes are too warm and suddenly the smile is dripping from Riku's face.

"Sora? Are you alright?"

"F-Fine," he coughs to hide the crack in his voice, and smiles as best he can despite the holes that are opening in his chest. "That's…what I came here about anyway."

"Great," Riku smiles, and he's so relieved, and his whole expression is warm and affectionate and Sora doesn't know how he can feel so nice when he feels so freezing. "Come on inside, yea? We can talk about what we're going to get Kairi for her birthday, since it's in only a week."

"Y-Yea…" he murmurs, and follows his best friend inside, leaving his heart on the doorstep.

* * *

**:O:**

* * *

It begins in colors; a glint of deep green, a flash of red, but mostly blackness. Then the feeling of warmth, around his legs, above him, beneath his fingertips and on his face. It's nice, whatever this is, and he leans into the heat. He hears wisps of gasping breath somewhere near him, but they're quick and breathless and not frightening at all. He lets himself fall into the comfort, into the sweet blackness, and relaxes.

And as soon as he does there's a flash, and the sharp, biting sound of a camera shutter, and hands, thick and strong and too familiar, wrapping around his ankles and his wrists and his neck, and he gasps and shoots up; his senses rush to him, the gentle hush of his brother's snoring, the clicking of their clock, the sight of the moonlight pooling against the floor from outside of the window.

A dream, he tells himself. It was just a dream.

He pauses to make sure that Sora is still asleep, and then looks down at his boxers only to realize that he's rather 'excited,' and flushes deep pink. He ignores the ghosting of hands grabbing him and instead remembers the saccharine part of his dream; the colors and the warmth and the smooth, gentle breaths near him, and turns over onto his side, facing away from his brother. He tries to ignore it; the gentle purr of his whispered name makes his heart stutter, though, and he refuses, downright will not admit that he recognizes the voice.

'_Stupid Axel.'_

With a resolute sigh he presses his face into the pillow, trying not to think about the redhead and his goofy smile, or the gritty emotion in his eyes when he stares at Roxas. His brows furrow and he flushes even darker, wondering why the moron is in his thoughts this late at night anyway…and soon, he's slipped into sleep again.

This time, unfortunately, he dreams about cold metal, hardwood floors, feathers, and Polaroid's.

* * *

**:O:**

* * *

Demyx is a strange shade of blue when he and Zexion step off of the train and onto the platform. The latter is completely and clearly unfazed as he joins the masses and throngs of commuters and adolescents coming and going, attire ranging from sun-wear to business suits, and pulls disconcertingly at his sleeves as he takes off to get away from the scent of sunscreen.

It takes him a few minutes to realize he's lost the blonde, and his eyes narrow as they scan the crowds. He finds him against the wall, a hand over his chest and breathing deeply with his eyes closed. His lips barely move, but they do.

"What are you doing?"

"Singing," he says, and his voice is tight. "And breathing. It helps. I have _awful_ equilibrium."

"Oh," he mutters. "What do you sing?"

A strange look passes over Demyx's face as he looks at the dark-haired detective. The look, Zexion will later decipher, is one of vulnerability, as if no one had ever asked him such a personal question before. Unfortunately, before he can answer, a wave of dizziness overcomes him, and he clamps a hand over his lips and pushed himself away from the wall.

"'Scuse me," he blurts out, and somehow finds himself to the nearest men's room and relieves the contents of his stomach.

What's most strange of all, though, is that poor Demyx misses the smooth, soft smile that graces Zexion's lips, turning into a little grin of schadenfreude.

**

* * *

**

:O:

* * *

Cid raises an eyebrow at the clock. It's Friday already, and his night shifters are clearly taking their precious time in showing the fuck up. He grumbles another obscenity as a family walks in, and seats Kairi her fifth table. She's tied her hair back into two small pigtails, and she curses at the sight; she's already carrying two trays, one of drinks and another of entrees.

"God, Cid, where the hell is my backup?!" she growls, taking off with perfect waitress smiles. Cid rolls his eyes; Cloud has never been late in his life, and though Roxas decided to take a personal day a week prior, (without telling anyone, he notes gruffly) he's been showing up late almost every day, and it's gone far enough.

His scowl thickens when he sees a disastrous excuse for a car screeching to a halt on the street. The redhead inside shouts something over the seat to Roxas, and the blonde rolls his eyes and hurries inside. About the same time, Cloud skids to a halt from around the corner, whipping the door open. The two stand before him in the mass of people, identical expressions of discomfort on their faces.

"Sorry," the murmur, and Roxas reaches to punch in.

"You dumb shits are in for a world of trouble. Apologize to red first, though."

"Sorry Kairi," the both say in tandem, and as she walks by she rolls her eyes. For some reason, today, she looks just a little bit prettier to Roxas, and her voice is just a little bit sweeter. The customers are a little bit more animated, and he actually manages to smile once, and the sight of it makes the female at the table blush bright pink. To top it off, Axel promised to drive him home, so he makes sure to stash away a small box with a slice of strawberry shortcake in it.

Overall, it's a good night for him.

Unfortunately, Cloud's night goes less well than he'd hoped.

He's just finished ringing up a table when the door swings open, and two people walk in, and he turns his head up, fully prepared to give them a perfect Setting's greeting, but his words splinter and dehydrate in his mouth at the sight.

"Cloud," the voice drawls, smooth like honey but with a cobra's snarl behind it. "It's so fitting to see you again."

The man is tall, with lovely silver hair and strange cyan-eyes that seem to glow, dressed entirely in black. Beside him is a lovely brunette with green eyes, and she looks resigned but curious. Cloud nods in acknowledgement, and she bows her head with a gentle smile.

"Aerith. What…are you doing?"

"I'm looking for you, of course," she answers sweetly, and he can see it in her face that she's lying. He doesn't dare push it, though. Not now. "I missed you."

"Yea…me too," he admits honestly. "You here to eat?"

"That would be nice," Sephiroth hisses, his huge hand clamping around her wrist and pulling her forward. She looks so tiny beside him that Cloud clenches his fists, trying not to appear at all fazed, or, more importantly, worried. Aerith is, after all, his best friend, and an absolute angel. Her half-brother, on the other hand--

He leads them to a table far away from the others. Many customers turn at the beauty of the trio, envious at the girl whose hand he holds. Aerith smiles like sunshine and asks for some tea with milk and honey, and Sephiroth asks for black coffee.

"So," the man starts when Cloud returns, and he takes a seat at the edge of the booth. "How do you like living here?"

"It's nice. And quiet."

"Nothing like home, I bet."

"This is home," he grumbles, and Aerith quietly sips at her tea. His stomach tightens when he sees the bruises on her upper arms, half-shielded by a short-sleeved red blazer, and small, crescent-sized scars on the inside of her wrists that he knows weren't self-inflicted.

He hates Sephiroth with all of his heart, but he fears him even more.

"Excuse me," Roxas scurries over, his apron over his shoulder and his eyes lacking their usual defensive edge in lieu of a brighter, almost eager look. Cloud is startled by such a look, and Roxas eyes Sephiroth for only a second, his eyes flashing over the tall man, before a frown stretches across his face and a stab of dislike pierces his eyes. Sephiroth raises an eyebrow at him, interest clear and evident in his gaze.

"Yes?" his voice glides smoothly. Cloud feels a wretched spike of protection for the boy, and at the same moment this horrid lurch of helplessness. Sephiroth could stab Roxas and Cloud couldn't say boo about it--it would be too detrimental to the bigger picture. It's only a moment later when Roxas realizes he's staring, and he clears his throat.

"…Sorry. You reminded me of someone. Cloud, I don't need a ride home today."

Cloud nods and watches as Roxas glances once more at Sephiroth, looking alarmingly knowledgeable of his cruelty, but says nothing more as he turns to hurry away. Sephiroth grins.

"…Anyway. I'm here on business. Xemnas and his friends owe big--"

"Christ," Cloud growls, running one hand through his tussled hair. "I thought you were done with them."

Aerith grabs his hand; he squeezes it.

"We've only found a few of them. Supposedly, there are twelve--"

"But they divided almost a decade ago," Cloud reminds him. "So only half of them are actually to be held accountable. The neophytes, if you will, probably have no idea about what happened."

"It doesn't matter to me. Anyone involved at all is a threat. It's time you paid your debt to me, Cloud," his smirk is feral, and Aerith clutches his hand out of sight of the evil man before them. She sips her cup of tea with cautious eyes that flicker back between the two, and finally she clears her throat. She lets his hand go and places his hand palm up on the seat between them, and squeezes once. Once is yes, twice is no--it's always been their method of private communication. Sephiroth obliviously licks his lips and finishes the coffee.

"Fine," he snips, and Sephiroth grunts in affirmation.

"Good. We'll wait for you to finish up."

Cloud stands then and heads back to work, busing tables, all the while casting sidelong glances at Aerith. She and Sephiroth are talking quietly, and when she meets his gaze, once, she smiles so brightly he can't help but trust her. After all, she's never let him down before.

* * *

**:O:**

* * *

It's all Roxas can think about as he sits beside the redhead, who's smoking a cigarette as he drives. The dream haunts him. He's a smart boy, but he can't figure out how a bunch of colors can make him feel so…so--

His hair and eyes, he assumes at first, are nearly the same as in the dream, maybe a little deeper than he recalls, but why should colors make him feel like that? And the way he says his name…why did the dream have to be associated with him, of all people?

"…Did you just hear a word I was saying?"

"--S-Sorry," he mumbles, and turns away. His heart throbs as crimson and emerald ooze beneath his eyelids.

"I was _saying," _he drawls, and exhales. The sound makes something inside of Roxas jerk unpleasantly, and he grasps his belly as Axel continues to speak.

'_What the hell is wrong with me?'_

"…Hello-o? Your brain break or something, spacey?"

They're at a stoplight, and Axel puts one hand against his forehead. It's warm, so warm, and heat floods to his face without his permission. "Get off," he grumbles, pushing Axel's arm away, and the redhead looks pleasantly surprised as he lets his hands fall back onto the steering wheel; smug, almost.

"That's funny."

"What is?"

"Nothing. How about your house today? I showed you mine, it's about time I see yours."

"No," the word spits from his mouth before he can stop it, and he blushes in self-reproach when he realizes how rude he must sound. After all, he's opened up to him this much, so why shouldn't he return the favor?

"And why not? It's only fair."

Because…

"…'Cause I have a family, and you don't, so it's no stress to you. My mom will call the cops on you on account of your age, and my brother will call you a pedophile."

"A pedophile!" he snorts with laughter, but the sound is so harsh and violent that Roxas flinches, regretting the use of the word so simply. "Oh please. After all of…_that, _I think they could tell the difference between a pedophile and the guy that saved you. Unless, are they that protective? I guess it makes sense, but still, you're not some little kid anymore…and this is me, we're talking about…why are you so damn red? You need a hospital or something?"

The silence isn't long, but it's just long enough for Axel to glance over at the blonde and see the flush across his face, cheeks freckled lightly from the sun despite the fact he rarely does anything but work. He sees the guilt in his eyes, the loneliness, and most prominently…the denial…and then the pieces click perfectly into place. Axel's fists clench around the steering wheel, and instantly he whips the car into a nearby grocery store parking lot, slamming the breaks and turning the machine off.

"Roxas," his voice is a stringent hiss. He turns in his seat so that he's looking directly at him, and Roxas looks back with hard eyes. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his messy mane, and when he speaks again, it's so low that it's almost a whisper. "They do know, don't they? You told them, didn't you?"

The blonde says nothing.

"You didn't," his voice is a hollow whisper, and he exhales shakily. "You didn't tell them. You didn't…you've kept it a secret…all this time, no one knows--"

"It's nothing," Roxas finally speaks, and the sound is dangerously vibrant. His eyes are colder and harder and more desperate than Axel has ever seen them, the inky-blue color freezing with his will not to crumble. "It doesn't matter. They don't…have to know."

Axel wants so badly to argue--Roxas can see it in his eyes, the struggle of wanting to protest, to chide and yell and scream at him for being such an idiot…and he's shocked when he doesn't. Instead, he slumps back in his seat and glances out the windshield with glassy eyes, his breathing slowing. His fists clench and unclench, and Roxas bites his lip and waits.

"It's not nothing," he says finally, his voice so much softer than Roxas had expected. "It's everything."

And when he looks at Roxas again, there's something so much heavier in his green eyes, which are usually so light and playful, something dangerous but bold, something that Roxas finds himself instantly afraid of.

His arms are neither fast nor slow as they come up and grasp his shoulders, and every nerve ending his hands touch sets aflame. The blonde inhales strongly, his eyes flickering back and forth between Axel's eyes and the dashboard and his hands, and suddenly Axel leans closer, and he flinches; his heart feels like it's being clenched by a giant fist while his stomach flips and his eyes smash shut and--

--And Axel hugs him. Tightly. A lot like the first time they'd ever met, but this time, there's something more desperate and intense behind it. Roxas can feel his own heart sputter and quicken, racing to catch up with his mind, which, once swirling and ticking and worrying, has gone oddly quiet. Axel's arms are thin but strong as they crush him against his own body, one hand pressing his turned face to his chest, and Roxas feels Axel's heart skittering, just as fast as his own, against his cheek. He feels a cheek resting against the top of his head, and the intimacy of their moment hits him like a sledgehammer.

Something else blossoms inside of him; this feeling is warmer but still uncomfortable and foreign to him. His face burns and he's overwhelmed, not for the first time, by the scent of cigarettes and cinnamon, and it takes him a moment to find his voice.

"Let me g--"

"Not a chance, pipsqueak," he can feel his voice, feel it rumble in his chest, and colors burst behind his mind's eye. "Not this time. I just…you're so stupid…and you really get to me, you really, really do. You always have."

And Roxas feels himself caving in; he can't hear these things, he just can't, they're silly and untrue and they make him nauseous and alert and on fire all at once, but, for some reason, he doesn't try and untangle himself.

"You've been facing this all alone," he mumbles against his hair while his hands run soothingly in circles on his back. He twitches, unused to being touched, and Axel only presses harder. "No wonder you are the way you are. All by yourself…"

"I can do it," he growls, suddenly furious, and he grabs Axel's waist and tries to push him away. "It's…nothing I can't handle. I can. And you won't dare tell my family anything. If you do, I'll…"

"Mums the word, squirt," he sighs, and unwinds his arms from around Roxas, his hands lingering on his shoulders. The green is so intense and vibrant that Roxas looks away, out the window, and freezes at what he sees.

Namine and Kairi, both holding bags filled with groceries, stand with eyes and jaws agape. And Roxas feels the all-familiar feeling of nausea as his eyes trail from their faces to the passenger window, which is wide-open for all the world to hear.

Axel glances at the twins, and then as realization settles upon him he raises a discontented eyebrow, just as a huge grin slices Kairi's face in two. And why she's grinning he can't understand, because she just heard them, and surely she has to know, she must--

"Don't worry, Roxas," she beams. "I won't tell anyone you're secret."

And how the fuck can she just be grinning like that? No one grins when they hear about this sort of thing…and how long had they been standing there, anyway? Enough to hear about…

'_B-But I don't think we said anything about--'_

"Kairi," Namine starts, looking very worried, but Kairi shakes her head, chin in the air.

"No, no, I promise," she hums defiantly. "I won't tell a soul--but being gay isn't something you need to hide!"

* * *

**: End Six :**

* * *


	7. March of the Toy Soldiers

AN: Well damn, kids! I guess all that holiday spirit really inspired you to review!! Honey and I are in great appreciation, I swear it, and I'm so, so, SO happy to see some feedback for this story! Special thanks to our newest reviews: Micro chibi baka-san, With a side of stereotype, shrouded-obsession, Pseudonym, xoRaining Diamondsox, Rosaline Whedenbrook, The Heartbreaker, Shironess (I'll make a special note for you in that, upon recieving your flatter, Honey blushed so red, cherries would swoon with envy!), cookies-n'-milk-yo (who's been reviewing since the start!), Hinna, Blaithin-mae, and Envious Invadia! You are all so fabulous for taking time to review this story and we really, really appreciate it.

See how this feedback thing works, though? Two weeks and another chapter's done! :D

BY THE WAY: in addressing a question brought up to me by H3Manga00 from one of the very first chapters...the term "creeper" is a commonly used word from where I'm from, and if you've never heard of it, it's simply the state of being creepy. As used in this sentence: _After being stalked for three consecutive weeks in a row by a man in a jacket, Honey and I concluded that aforementioned man was a creeper._ I hope to have cleared up any confusion as to that word, and sorry for the delay, but Honey was going over everything when the overlooked circumstance was noted.

AND NOW, a word straight from the author's mouth (the very first directly from M.!): _Thank you everyone for reading my story. My appreciation is great, and I don't want you to think anyway otherwise, thus I have redone this chapter and given it to Maddy as quickly as humanly possible! I hope it's to your liking, and I certainly hope the future ones make you happy!_

Enjoy this chapter!

Kisses!

~M.w.H.~  
~Soupie~

**

* * *

**

Wildfire

* * *

:: |Chapter Seven| ::

:: |March of the Toy Soldiers| ::

* * *

**K****airi** would do well to learn that it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. Unfortunately, she is beyond pleased with the discovery that thinks she's made--that behind Roxas' cool, calloused exterior and under his MAJOR attitude problem there's a boy hopelessly and fearfully in love. So pleased, in fact, that she defers bringing the groceries home in lieu of taking Roxas and his 'boyfriend' out for a little snack at a nearby diner.

And Roxas has to admit, the more Kairi talks, the more his fried nerves are at ease, because she thinks she has him all figured out, that all of his mysticism and weirdness is because (according to her, of course) he's gay and not ready to come out. It's a romantic thought when he plays the conversation over in his head--Axel pleading to meet the family, Roxas denying him the chance, and Axel's realization that Roxas hasn't told him yet…and his whispering of what a brave, lonely boy he must be for going through his discoveries by himself.

If it were anyone but Kairi, Roxas would have laughed.

But Kairi's mouth is as big as her reputation, and Roxas feels with every passing moment precariously close to disaster. After all, he isn't--he doesn't know if he's _gay, _or--whatever. He doesn't feel much of anything except discomfort, to be completely honest, when it comes to the topic of interaction.

It might've been easier to come up with another situation, another lie, but Axel seems all too prepared to put up the charade. His hand slides around Roxas' waist as they sit in the booth of Setting's' rival diner, 'Twilit Beguine,' ignoring Roxas as he tries to lean away, wiggling in his grasp.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner, Roxas!" Kairi giggles. "And where on earth did you pick this one up? He's so charming!"

Axel practically croons; Roxas rolls his eyes and pries at Axel's fingers, a task he finds much harder than he imagined, because Axel isn't hurting him with his grip yet the digits seem unflinchingly solid in holding him.

"I can't believe he didn't tell me about you earlier, Kai. You're a doll!" Axel grins, and the edge of sarcasm in his voice is missed by Kairi but caught by Roxas, and he might've smirked, if only his mood wasn't so sour.

What if he'd said something? What if she'd heard him say something about--about…He would never be so careless again. Kairi couldn't keep a secret to save her life, and if she'd overhead…

"…my grouchy little panda and I were going to eat dinner tonight with his family, but…"

"Don't be silly! I insist that Namine and I pay for your dinner right here and now. It's the least I can do, I feel so delighted to be the first to know about your relationship, even before Sora!"

"Sora?"

"Ah! You didn't even tell him you had a brother, Roxas?"

"Oh, I knew," Axel beams, squeezing his waist and making him yelp and jump slightly. Everything in his belly begs him to pull away from Axel, that this is so wrong, that he's not dating _anyone_, he could never--he couldn't fathom--people who date do things, like kiss, and…and more, and Roxas can't even _think _about it without his stomach plummeting uncomfortably--

"Fries for me, please. And for you, panda-bear?"

Roxas feels eyes staring him down, and he realizes that Axel has been referring to him as such, and he flushes and shakes his head, glaring at him from the corner of his eye. The waiter shrugs and leaves, and Axel chuckles.

"It's okay, you can share with me."

"Don't call me names anymore," he snorts.

"Aw, it's so adorable! You make a really cute couple," Kairi sighs, humming gently.

Roxas meets Namine's eyes. She's staring suspiciously at Axel, and when her eyes flicker to his, he feels his insides tighten. She looks like she knows something; curiously she observes his mannerisms, and he realizes that if he wants to be convincing, he'd better play the role.

It takes a lot of pride to snuff the arguing voice inside of him that denies any attraction to Axel, but he does, and he slumps against his shoulder while his tired eyes are downcast. Axel is clearly surprised by the gesture and his body stiffens quite suddenly, but he easily relaxes and slings a hand over his shoulder, making Roxas flinch, albeit unnoticeably. Kairi squeaks with an enthralled expression, while Namine raises an eyebrow.

"You good, kiddo?" he feels Axel's warm breath against his ear, and he nods. He tries to make the actions fluid and cool, but they all come out jerky and forced, as if he's being cattle-prodded rather than enjoying a moment with a…with a _lover_.

"Mm…"

"You look a little pale. Should I take you home?"

Escape never looked so good; his eyes light up and he almost smiles.

"Please--"

"No, no! Have some soup or something first, I insist," Kairi leans forward, her pretty eyes sparkling with sympathy and the desire to know all. Roxas twists so he can see Axel's eyes from his angle, and in them he sees concern and amusement at the same time. He scowls and unravels himself from his arm, pushing himself away with a blush.

'_What the hell am I DOING?!'_

"Bathroom," he murmurs, and leaves the table.

Once in the lavatories he splashes some cool water on his face, relieved in his solidarity and his emotions a wreck. It's been quite the day, and he breathes slowly to try and get a handle on himself. The mirror reflects his ruffled hair, his defeated eyes and the bags beneath them…

'_This is too much.'_

He hates it when people touch him--he absolutely _hates _it. Sensitive skin and the haunting memory of hands groping never make a combination that equates to a touchy-feely individual. Except for Sora and his mother, he jerks away from physical contact in general like it's venomous, and he's no less of a person for it, not at all; he just doesn't want any part of it.

Except…when Axel touches him…

"Hey, hurry up in there!" a stranger's voice urges, and he wipes his face down with a paper towel.

…it's just _different_.

The table is lacking two females, and as he sits, Axel explains that Kairi dragged her twin off to the bathroom. He nods and takes a seat, sure to keep a few inches between them. Axel notices and sighs, painfully.

"You'll have to be a little more convincing than that, if you want them to believe you."

"Why do they have to think this, of all things?" he mutters, his courage failing him and forcing his gaze at his glass of water. "We could have told them something else."

"Too late now," Axel snorts, suddenly irritated. "Sorry if I'm so repulsive to you, but I think it's a good idea to keep up this charade. It's the perfect excuse to take me home anyway--"

"You're not coming to my house," Roxas rolls his eyes. "I thought we already clarified that. Even when my mom finds out about this little disaster--"

"Kairi said she wouldn't tell."

"You clearly don't know Kairi. She couldn't keep a secret to save her life."

"What's the big deal, anyway? It's not like you've never had a significant other, right?"

Roxas doesn't answer, and he peers at the blonde in scrutiny before biting his tongue with a mental chide towards his bluntness. The answer is so clear from every move Roxas makes, every flinch, every nervous look…of course he wouldn't.

"…Intimacy issues?"

Roxas doesn't need to nod for Axel to know it's true, but he does anyway. Axel bites his lip as the familiar, protective urge washes over him, not for the first time.

"Look," he murmurs. "I know it's hard now, because you're still young--don't give me that look, you are--and you've got hormones and emotions and baggage that I can't even imagine," his laugh is bitter at this, and Roxas peers at him out of the corners of his eyes. He shrugs and sits up straight, cracking his neck.

"But when you do feel that sort of thing for someone…all that stuff goes away. All of that fear and that discomfort, and the feelings from your past, I'm promising you now they just snuff out, and all you want is for it again, and again, until it's all you can think about. Especially when it's with the right sort of person."

And it sounds like a confession, but Roxas can't be sure so he just stares at his lap. Deep in his consciousness he imagines this; he imagines leaning into a touch rather than the knee-jerk reaction he feels to move away, to instead lean in and want something like that, and he feels content and quiet at such a thought. When he finally tries to speak, Kairi and her sister emerge from the door, and his lips form into a slim line. Slowly, he slips nearer to diminish the gap between them, and Axel chuckles and picks up a fry from his plate, and holds it in front of Roxas' lips.

"Don't fret, blondie," he coos affectionately, moving his lips closer to Roxas' ear without touching, despite what it probably looked like to the sisters. "I'll take good care of you. Maybe you'll enjoy yourself along the way."

Roxas opens his mouth and bites the fry silently, wondering how long he has until everyone in the world hears from Kairi about his faux-relationship. Somehow, he finds himself relieved that it isn't his past that they're going to hear about, and along with this feeling he feels something else; something along the lines of trust, perhaps a little thicker and deeper and stronger that what he's used to feeling, but nothing extreme.

'_It could be so much worse,' _he thinks, and then, though he'd never admit it, _'And I guess as long as it's Axel, it can't be so bad…'_

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

It is because Cloud doesn't have to drive Roxas home in the evening that he has no excuse not to leave with Sephiroth and Aerith. Sephiroth opens the passenger door for Aerith like a proper gentlemen, and as he shuts the door she glances back at Cloud through the rearview mirror, and he can see in her eyes the inner calm despite the clear and evident danger they are in.

Sephiroth is, among other things, a sociopath, always known for his seemingly random bursts of violence.

"Honeymoon's over," his voice is still smooth, but it carries a gruff undertone that hadn't been present whilst they were in public. "Aerith, my little darling, please inform him of what he's missed."

"Well, from the enormous discovery of the schism of the Organization, and the deception Xemnas and his men pulled against Sephiroth, we've been led to believe that the big man himself has recently decided to make Twilight Town his hiding spot. It's impossible to hide with those tattoo's they all have--big, black Roman numerals. Keep an eye out."

Cloud nods, and Sephiroth peels out of Setting's, tires screeching.

"Aside from them, his two biggest lackey's are missing as well. Rumor has it they're about to get theirs for that…that atrocity…you know," she shakes her head, unwilling to let such evil poison her thoughts. "But it's my belief that they're hiding out in the Radiant Garden."

"We'll get to them once Xemnas is destroyed," Sephiroth's voice is an eager purr.

"…The young one from the original six, the snitch, is missing. Apparently he's set his life in the right direction with a legitimate job that's aimed at redemption--"

"Regardless, he was one of the original--a rat no less, and thus will be hunted down like the pig he is," Sephiroth pipes in with a sickening chuckle.

"And the three rebels that almost killed Xemnas in that fire have disappeared completely."

"I have no qualms with them, but since they won't be missed anyway, I wouldn't hold it against you if you killed them, and I hope you'd return the favor to me."

"Sephiroth wants them alive," Aerith shivers. "He wants to do it. We need you to help us find them."

"What makes you think I'd know any of these people? I don't spend my time amongst murders and criminals."

'_Not anymore,_' he inwardly corrects.

"Who got you out, my little pet? That little house you live in, those clothes on your back, your job--without me, you'd have none of that. You owe me. Besides, a mercenary can always be bought. You will be rewarded handsomely."

"All I want is to be left alone."

The hotel that they end up at is the most lovely in town, and the most expensive by far. Sephiroth leads the way and Aerith bumps elbows playfully with Cloud as they walk through the doors, which brings a small smile to his face; just like when they were children, following Sephiroth on whatever strange adventure he had in mind; since he yelled so much they'd communicate through small bumps and nudges and touches.

"Aerith," Sephiroth's voice cuts like a knife between them. "Surely you could give Cloud and I some time by ourselves? It's been so very long since we've seen each other."

Aerith pales slightly, and a jolt of fear runs through Cloud. They look at each other helplessly; he squeezes her hand quietly and quickly, and she retreats to the car.

His whole body shakes as he follows Sephiroth, though not of anticipation or excitement; his face remains stoic and stern, but he and Sephiroth can both feel his fear, heavy and present as they stride towards the elevators.

"I do hope you've managed to keep yourself clean for me, Cloud," he says, glaring at the shorter one, his white teeth glistening beneath his thin lips. "I'll know if you haven't. And I will not be pleased."

Squall's face flashes before his mind and a very strange, defensive wave sweeps over him. Any other time he would be terrified that his eyes or body language or something might give him away, but in this case a swell of protectiveness for his newfound lover influences him to keep his composure. He thinks of the smooth planes of his jaw and the cut lines of his muscles, his body, and the deep, raw, stormy look in his grey eyes.

He doesn't know a lot about Squall. He doesn't know his favorite food or his favorite color, where he grew up; hell, he barely remembers his last name. But he does know that what he feels is something real--something he can keep out of Sephiroth's reach. And even if it's just for the mind-blowing sex, he vows then and there that he'll never, ever let Sephiroth near Squall.

"You know I wouldn't," he says, and stares Sephiroth straight in the eye. They are green and empty, but they search Cloud's for the smallest hint to identify his lie. And, much to his relief, Sephiroth turns his head away with a satisfied smirk.

"I know you wouldn't," he says. "You're mine."

Cloud follows him to his hotel room and tries not to shake as the door locks behind him; Sephiroth has never been anything less than violent during sex, and he only prays he doesn't look any different when (and if) he goes to see Squall again.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

Normally, not a lot of things get on Demyx's nerves. He prides himself on being both affable and amiable, what with his whole 'sticks-and-stones' look toward life, and his acceptance of most practices in general. But there are some limits that sometimes are breached, and one of the ones that bothers him most is the sound of too-painful, sadistically violent sex.

"…Hi, I'm sorry to be bothering you, but the couple in the room above ours is seriously about to crack a hole through the ceiling…yes, twelfth floor…right…thank you so much, sorry to trouble you again!"

He hangs up and Zexion rolls his eyes from his spot on the sofa, feet propped up on the table. There's a particularly sharp grunt and the sound of something crashing above them.

"Jeez! Are we sure no one's being murdered up there?" he sighs, running his hands through his hair. He sheepishly looks at the arrangement of chocolates on the table, and flushes.

"You know, I'll pay you back for this one day, you know? I mean, if I ever get the money."

Zexion shrugs, and flips a page of the phonebook. His eyes squint as he comes to the spot where the name 'Hikari' should be, and he frowns when he doesn't see it. He throws the book into a pile of many others.

"So many districts," he sighs, and reaches for another one. Demyx busies himself with building a small pyramid of wrapped chocolates. Finally he shoots up in his seat, his finger following the trail of dots to a phone number, and a small grin spreads across his face.

"Found it!"

Demyx is shocked to hear such satisfaction in his voice, and he glances over, his heart skipping a beat. Zexion's eyes are alive and relieved, after searching through a great many phonebooks, and there's a faint hint of flush across his cheeks. Demyx is no fool; the sitarist is _painfully_ aware of how aesthetically appeasing Zexion is, and every time something like this happens the feeling seems to grow.

"Aoi Hikari…that was the signature on those papers we received. She's definitely here, then! And so close…"

The smile drains off of Demyx's face, and he guiltily goes back to his mountain of chocolates. After all, even though they'd been looking for the family for awhile, it still means uncovering some wounds that are probably not yet healed, and probably never will be.

"…Are you sure this is a good idea, going this far? I mean, he's…it's…"

He trails off, unsure of how to say his thoughts, but he looks up after a shy moment, and though he is usually a stern-looking person, he concludes that Zexion has never looked so serious before. His lips are pressed together and his brow is furrowed slightly, and he waits patiently for him to continue. He flushes and turns away, his eyes back on the pretty wrappers.

"…It wasn't so hard for me, telling you everything, but him…I mean, he might still be really shaken up by it…and I…was doing it for the Organization, not willingly, but he was never involved at all…"

There is a very long period when Zexion doesn't speak, and Demyx hopes he hasn't offended him. Finally, he gets up off of the couch and sits beside him, poking at the chocolate, his eyes on the golden wrappers.

With a slow but deliberate motion, he pulls up his sleeve, and right on his wrist is a thick, dark VI, and Demyx gasps softly, knowing the full weight of what it took to get that. He was so young when he got his, so very young, and though he was discarded, he would know the sign of the Organization anywhere.

He doesn't say anything as he pulls up the hair growing at the nape of his neck, long but trimmed, and reveals a thick black IX. Zexion nods in understanding, though something deep is in his eyes.

"Everything done up until this moment has been for the benefit of myself, and…I can't explain it, but I need to do this. I have to."

"Like redemption?"

Zexion shrugs, and then looks Demyx right in the face.

"It's how I knew that you were from the pictures…I saw this," he reaches around Demyx and taps his neck with one finger, and despite himself Demyx feels a small thrill at being touched and at their sudden proximity, but he restrains himself from doing something stupid and only nods again in understanding.

"It's also why Roxas is the most important to this--because he'll be considered an unbiased party, since you have a history…he's going to be the start to this little domino effect."

"What do you mean?"

"Sort of like…a wildfire. Roxas is going to identify Saix and Vexen immediately, since those two were mostly the ones behind it. Plus your admittance, and the fact that they were recently labeled national traitors to the Radiant Garden because of their involvement in the war--the whole Organization is at stake for that, except us, and three others--"

"The traitors," Demyx nods, and suddenly he can see it, everything lined up so perfectly into place, like domino's; one betrayal would lead to another, and another, until the entire Organization would be at stake and would crumble from the inside out.

"Right. And Vexen…" Zexion trailed off, waiting for Demyx to catch on, and the blonde nodded, the weight of their roles suddenly hitting him at full impact.

"He's a coward. He'll lead them right to the superior, and he'll give anything to get his way--names most assuredly…"

He feels it, the weight, suddenly, that Zexion has been feeling all of this time. Ever since the fracture, the Organization has been out of sight, out of mind, but still present and haunting in the back of his memory that he could ignore. Now, all they need is Roxas to point out just one person, to be brave enough to turn in just one of the monsters that hurt him, and it would spin wildly out of their control, just like a wildfire--a single ember would destroy everything in it's sight, and nothing anyone might do could prevent the devastation.

"What about…what the three traitors? Xemnas knows their names, but will they be judged, since they helped the Radiant Garden rather than the others, who tried to destroy it? And…what about you, or me?"

Zexion looks suddenly pained, and he nods.

"We will be okay. I am as cowardly as they, I'm afraid. When I was young I did what I needed to for survival…I betrayed the superior, foiling his first attempt to blow up the waterways, and in return I was granted a full pardon…and don't worry about yourself. They couldn't say much since you're clearly in the pictures anyway, but, if something happens…I'll watch out for you."

They are words of comfort, and they settle nicely over Demyx, covering him like a warm blanket. When he at last looks up at Zexion, he sees his eyes are softer than ever, and he somehow looks determined and resigned. When their eyes lock, though, his face brightens, and just as he opens his mouth there is a thud from above, and a deep, throaty grunt, followed by the rhythmic smacking of a headboard against the wall.

And Demyx can't help himself; the absurdity of the situation hits him just so that he throws his head back and laughs loudly, letting the joyous reaction flow out of his mouth in waves and bubbles. When he finishes he glances at Zexion, who's grinning.

"Let's set this thing on fire, shall we?" he says, and picks up his cell phone.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

When Squall comes home that afternoon and finds Yuffie and Aerith Gainsborough inside, drinking tea and catching up, he doesn't think anything of it. Aerith stands and embraces him, kissing him once on each cheek, and he even manages to give her a gentle smile.

"It's been ages," she beams. "You were still a little boy when I saw you last!"

"What brings you all the way out here? Don't you still live in the capital?"

"Yes," she sighs, and Squall can see the misery in her admittance. "And I'm terribly selfish, but I wish you would all come back with me. Do you remember our little committee?"

"The Restoration Committee!" Yuffie chirps. "Dedicated to the preservation of the uncorrupted!"

"And you were our youngest member, only six years old!" she laughs, and the sound is really brilliant. "Our little ninja. We were practically a family, us three…."

She sighs heavily, and sips at her tea.

"I wish I'd come earlier, just to see you, but I'm here with my step-brother. Business, as usual."

"Aerith," Yuffie chides, her face falling. "You promised you wouldn't! All that silliness about getting rid of the traitors to the nation…"

"It is nonsense, I agree. But he wished me to accompany him, and I won't deny him. Not this time…"

"Why not? He's a creep--no offense," she adds quickly.

"Well, it's because he's dealing with one of my closest friends. I doubt any of you knew Cloud Strife, but…"

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees their faces; Yuffie's jaw goes slack and Squall's eyes harden like sapphires, and before he can block his emotions as he always does she sees them flicker with interest.

"Oh…perhaps you know him?"

"What's your brother got to do with him?" Squall asks, and the curiosity is practically oozing from his voice, so to try and hide it he leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, just like he usually does. Aerith's face slackens and she gazes into her teacup, biting her lip.

"Not much, I hope," she whispers, but it sounds less like a comment than a prayer.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

Kairi and Namine's party is the talk of the town, and everyone who's everyone is invited. After all, eighteen is a good age, and seeing as their father is the governor, it didn't take much convincing to snag the hottest location: Destiny Ballroom, the only banquet hall right over the beach, and though Namine takes the whole thing without much care, the redhead will accept naught but perfection.

The ballroom, she decides, is her favorite part; wooden floors and high ceilings with lovely chandeliers that dangle prettily. While Namine sits at home she flits about in preparation for the impending evening.

"Riku, Sora, I'm so glad you volunteered to help me," she sighs, eyeing with keen eyes the distance between the two friends, who normally are smashed up so close it's almost sickening. She raises an eyebrow as she feels their chemistry, and how it's just slightly off, not quite the perfect kinship she's grown to associate them with.

"Oh lord…what happened? You guys have never had a fight before!"

They both look startled by the accusation, though the hurt evident in their faces is a clear sign. She rolls her eyes and hands them both two huge boxes.

"These are the party favors, and masks for people who couldn't get their own. Please separate them and make the arrangements cute."

And so, Riku and Sora find themselves side-by-side on the balcony with the huge glass doors shut, letting them bask in the sound of the ocean. At first they are silent and painfully aware of each other, sorting through colorful masks decorated in every style of feathers and sequin, drenched in glitter.

"…It's been awhile since we've gone to the island," Riku says, glancing out at the small strip of land not far from the coast. Sora peeks up from his organizing, but shrugs, and lets his gaze fall again.

"Yea," he murmurs. "Guess so."

Behind his eyes, Sora remembers the night in front of a stormy window, the warm feeling of lips against his and the desperation he thought he'd felt. In that instant, he'd thought he knew Riku better than ever, without him even having to say it--he could feel his heart racing, could feel his blood pulsing, and everything was so connected in that split second that now, without it, he felt horribly empty.

It's at this point that his reaction surprises him; a normal Sora would be practically bouncing with ideas, plans about heading right over to the island and making Riku smile just a little. But he's so not in the mood, and this realization makes him pout.

They're growing apart, he thinks. They're the best of friends and this weird little rift between them is changing them, and the void is growing bigger every second. Without a beat of hesitation he leans over and grabs Riku's hand, peering up into Riku's eyes.

Riku's green eyes widen and he looks taken aback, but curious and somewhat disbelieving as he peers down at the short brunette. Sora opens his mouth but his nerve shakes a little, so he closes it again and bites his lip. The moment extends and lengthens until at last he's able to speak.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and his voice is so quiet that Riku almost misses it. "I know you're sorry about what you did, but I'm--"

"Hey boys!" the sound of Kairi's voice echoes simultaneously with the sound of the door opening. The boys leap back as if zapped, and Kairi looks hesitant for a moment, as if she knew she'd just interrupted something. With an apologetic look she placed another box beside the others, and Namine followed with another.

"So sorry, I forgot about these," she motions to the box. Sora blushes and nods, and Riku watches him for a burning, curious moment. Kairi clears her throat and scampers away, but Riku's voice stops her in her tracks.

"Kairi, do you have a date for your party?"

Sora flinches as if he's been burned by the sound, and Kairi's eyes widen slightly. She peers between the two, looking as hesitant as ever, and licks her lips.

"I--I'm--uh, sorry, what?"

"Can I be your escort?" he says, sounding somewhat bitter and stung. Sora watches him helplessly with a feeling in his belly akin to a million little alligators munching all his organs from the inside out. His mind swirls blankly and his lips purse a little and his face falls, and it's then that he notices the dullness in Kairi's eyes. She smiles through it, but it's there, dull and uncomfortable and knowing.

"I'd love that, Riku," she mutters.

"And Namine? Can I escort you?" Sora manages to say in a tone more even than he thinks, and evens adds a little grin. Riku sets to work on the gift bags while Namine nods, smiling gently.

"I'd like that," she says, and the twins leave. Riku and Sora speak quietly through the duration of their work, but neither seem to remember anything but a dull, achy sentiment by the time they're done.

* * *

**: End Seven :**

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	8. Coffee, Tea, and Trepak

AN: I know this part is a bit of a clusterfuck of confusion. I'm very aware, actually, almost painfully. All I can promise is that I know how it turns out and when I'm finished you'll understand too, so please bear with the suspense for a little!

Wow, this was a speedy update. Too fast, methinks! FIVE DAYS!! But we want to get as much out as we can 'cause it might be a while once we go back to our own respective schools--meaning, of course, that I will no longer be able to live in our darling author's basement. I don't think we'll be able to finish, but it's a small possibility...nah! Screw that. :3

Now for my thankyous: CNMY (again, our darling, you are wonderful!), Envious Invidia (prior sentiments extended to you love!), xoRaining Diamondsox, Orcadia, With a side of stereotype, The Heartbreaker, and Aindel S. Druida! Thank you all.

Also, Honey would like to make a note here concerning the name of this chapter: if you haven't figured it out, GO LISTEN TO THE MUSIC GOD THAT IS TCHAIKOVSKY!!! And if you're a music-dork like Honeybunny is, we highly reccomend the Piano Concerto in Bb minor, a piece that is going to be the focus of a _BRAND SPAKING-NEW CO-WRITTEN PIECE BY HONEY AND MYSELF!!!!!!!!_ Could this be the start of a dynamic situation?? First chapter coming soon! Tentative title is _Rhapsody_. 3

We digress.

For those that haven't yet: **REVIEW**!!!!!

Kisses,  
~Soupie~  
~M.w.H.~

**

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**

Wildfire

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:: |Chapter Eight| ::

:: |Coffee, Tea, and Trepak| ::

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**A****oi **Hikari answers the phone on the second ring, and her voice has a natural smile that emanates in such a way that Zexion almost hangs up. This reaction is a complete shock to him, and he has no idea as to how to deal with the sudden rush of reality. His eyes shoot up to meet Demyx's, who shakes his head and leans forward to squeeze his leg in encouragement. The motion makes Zexion jump slightly; he's not used to such contact, and his voice hikes slightly as he speaks.

"Mrs. Hikari? My name is Zexion, and I'm a detective. I'm calling on behalf of your son."

He expects her to understand instantly, to come to some sort of recognition as to the pictures. He also expects her to burst out crying in relief, that they're finally getting around to taking care of this case, but what he doesn't expect is the heavy, annoyed sigh.

"_Oh lord…which one, and what as he done?"_

Demyx, who's head is leaned forward so he can hear, can't disguise his shock, and his eyebrows shoot up and his lips part. Zexion clears his throat and licks his lips.

"Roxas. This is involving the incident at his summer camp?"

"_Summer camp? I think you might have the wrong family. I sent him away once…he was probably eight or nine at the time, though."_

"She doesn't know," Demyx whispers, and the sound breaks in the middle. "Zexion, we can't tell her over the phone."

"…I think we need to make a house call."

"_Excuse me?_"

"I'm sorry, but this is something…I think this would be best if we were to speak in person, if you wouldn't mind."

"_Oh…of-of course…would you like my address?"_

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: O :

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Squall isn't sure what is said that brings him right up to an unfamiliar door on an unfamiliar street. Sure, Aerith had asked him to and he'd flip over backwards for someone like her, but it still feels sort of uncomfortable being at the home of the guy he's been fucking for the past few weeks. A smirk settles on his face when he hopes they'll break his house in the same way they did his own.

He isn't sure what he's expecting, to be totally honest, since Aerith was rather vague about the Sephiroth situation ("It's not my place to say…you should go see him, since I have an appointment and cannot spare the time to--here, take a first aid kit and some tea!"), but the last thing he thinks he'll see is Cloud whipping the door open, eyes red, shirtless, and smelling so strongly of Rumple Minze his own sinus' clear up.

"Aerith, I didn't--"

His words harden and drop from his throat to his stomach as his bleary eyes squint and take in a figure who clearly isn't Aerith. His jaw slackens and his eyes widen in horrified realization, and he tries to speak, but the words slide right out of his mind, leaving it as blank as his drunken gaze.

"I…uh, I--"

"We lived together, way back," his deep voice makes Cloud jump, and he licks his suddenly dry lips. After all, he never pictured Cloud to be a drinker. "Aerith, Yuffie and I, when we were younger. She sent me. Said she had to go to Sephiroth."

They aren't exclusive. He never promised he wouldn't be with another person. Squall reminds himself of this and yet he cannot stop the strange, annoying itch of resentment when Cloud flushes at mention of the stranger.

"Do you know him too?"

"Nope," he shrugs. "She said you'd explain it. But I don't really care if you do or if you don't."

He shoulders his way into the small house, passing Cloud and heading into the kitchen. He stands for a moment, trying to decipher what emotion it is that's bubbling inside of him. The warmth makes him assume anger, and when he imagines punching the faceless individual who clearly has some sort of place in Cloud's heart, he smirks in satisfaction and nods to himself. He turns to say something to the blonde, who's still standing at the door, either shocked or ashamed, but before he can get a word out his eyes trail across a huge, bleeding gash that stretches from the corner of his lower back to his side.

"Jesus," Squall hisses, and he shuts the door and turns. Those bright eyes that make his heart pound and his skin tingle glance up, almost guilty. "You're bleeding all over yourself. Lay down on your stomach."

Cloud doesn't hesitate as he complies, walking into the other room and laying on his mattress. His room is rather plain with neutral colors, but Squall doesn't notice as he sits at the edge of the bed with the bandages and ointments. He'd first thought Aerith had given them to him as a joke, and now he bitterly pulls them from the basket, eyes on the empty bottle on the bedside The first one stings so badly that he hisses, gripping his comforter.

"S'ry," Squall mumbles, and Cloud grunts. His head is cloudy and his thoughts are skipping all over the place and his breath tastes sweetly like peppermind, and there's so much on his mind that he can't even soak into the numbness that being drunk usually promises.

So he speaks. He speaks quietly and quickly, and he tells him about his life in the Hollow Bastion as a mercenary for the king. He explains, without tainting the factual events with emotion or personal bias, about Sephiroth, the king's most ruthless and powerful general, and being under his command, and how the man became a war hero despite the horrible torture he inflicted on his prisoners.

He tells him about his youthful admiration of the general, which turned into love, or some form of it. He tries not to sound stung as he talks about how scared and confused he was by their relationship, and how he realized how wrong it was. Aerith had helped him out so much back then, and after the war was won and he was free, how she convinced Sephiroth to let him go.

He can't stop the guilt from flooding his voice when he speaks of Aerith. The little sister he never had; the sister Sephiroth took his anger out on. Her compliance, her trust, her gentleness, and her endless concern for Cloud.

And Squall listens, not saying a word as he dabs medicine onto his back and uses butterfly bandages to keep the wound shut. When that's done, he slides his hands down Cloud's smooth back, eyeing with wary eyes the purplish-yellow bruises.

So when Cloud has no more words in his mouth and feels utterly spent, Squall makes them both some tea and they sit in silence, sipping the sweet peach flavor.

"I don't know why I jus' told you all that," Cloud admits suddenly with drooping eyelids. "I'm…"

"Drunk," Squall grumbles, and Cloud doesn't miss the hint of amusement in his voice. He glances up at the brunette; at such an angle, he can see the sharp line of his jaw and the dip of his collarbone, but the bulky tone on his arms. He shrugs and leans back on the headboard, and somehow, this action settles the unease in Cloud's stomach, that perhaps Squall wouldn't want him anymore.

Squall meanwhile stares right back with that same, near-queasy feeling as before, wishing more than anything that he could wring the neck of the stranger, because even though they're not in love or even dating or in a legitimate relationship, Cloud looks so vulnerable and hurt and _beautiful_, just laying there. So much so that the brunette finds himself red-faced and searching for a better explanation.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he grumbles, looking away. "You told me because I'm here."

It's so true that Cloud actually smiles, shyly averting his gaze as happiness oozes from his half-hidden face; he moves so he can rest his head on Squall's lap, and falls asleep to the feeling of fingers weaving gently through his hair.

**

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: O :

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"You're not serious."

"As a heart attack," Axel replies smoothly, a grin stretching so wide across his cheeks his tattoos crinkle, leaning over the counter at Setting's holding a box in his hands, wrapped up in gold paper like a Christmas present (except that it's July, and nowhere near Roxas' birthday, so this present thing doesn't make sense…). He pushes it towards his blonde pseudo-boyfriend, and leans over to kiss Roxas on the cheek. Of course, Roxas ducks to avoid the contact, but looks with fascination at the gift.

"No, I mean it. You…"

"Mean so much to me that I just had to display my affections by material revenue," he coos, and for a moment he's able to look so legitimate and adoring that Roxas almost panics; his face burns and his heart jerks uncomfortably and he looks away, unsure of what to say, but then he sees it, this little bit of mocking amusement in jade eyes and he glowers and goes to smack Axel. He cackles and jumps out of the way, laughing.

"You're a creeper."

"It's from Kairi--she told me when we were eating to give it to you today. There's something in here for me too."

"I knew it. There's no way your poor butt could afford paper of such a fine quality."

"You forgot to mention my noticeable lack of skill in paper-wrapping," he adds, examining the finesse with which the package was clearly handled, fingers patting the cleanly folded lines along the side. It's not a busy afternoon, so Roxas leans over and rips the paper away, dropping all the little scraps into a trash bin. The box has little grooves in it and some initials in gold, and Axel pulls the top of the box off with a dramatic flourish.

The inside of the box is lined with red velvet, and on top were two beautifully decorated demi-masks--one a mix of white and pale, pale blue with black, sketched lines artistically drawn all over, and the other with intricately drawn flames and blazing red. Axel snorts and picks up the red one, holding it over his face.

"Masquerades are stupid," Roxas snorts, and picks up a small business card inside, and reads aloud. "'Roxas and boyfriend--please wear these complimentary masks for my party,'" he rolls his eyes and pries the mask away from Axel. The latter's thin eyebrows narrow and he glances at the blonde.

"Why?"

"Hm?"

"Why are they stupid?"

"Because everyone knows who everyone else is. And because they're SO cliché, and it's just an excuse for perfect strangers to rub up all on each other, and they were probably really cool once but now nobody's actually going to wear stuff like this--"

"We are," Axel interjects, grinning. "We are _so_ wearing them!"

"Nope. No way."

"Yea, we are--do you know how much these probably cost?"

"Dumb, dumb, dumb. I don't care, we'll return them or something."

"C'mon, Roxy, where's your sense of adventure?"

"D-Don't call me stupid things like that!" Roxas huffs as Axel leans forward, pushing him back by the forehead. "Besides, it's kind of creepy that you're coming. You're so much older than us!"

"Wrong again. I'm not that much older than your friends, since they're all going into college, right?"

Roxas' words die on his tongue as he remembers yet again; eight years, a canyon of time where he didn't exist and Axel did. Unfazed, though, Axel pokes him in the chest, making him flinch, but he ignores the gesture and does it again as he speaks, as if for emphasis.

"Besides. Everyone who's anyone is rumored to show up, and I'm sure people of such high class and regard are older than I am."

"Twenty-three and going to a high-school birthday party."

"It's the summer--age is superficial at times like these. And I'm going because _you _are."

And just like that it happens again; a jerk in Roxas' chest, like his heart just got zapped by static electricity, and warmth blooming from his belly. Colors flash through his mind and he shakes the blurs away, running his fingertips over the swirling designs. A customer enters and Roxas scurries off to take him, seating the man in his section.

Axel watches him, the smirk sliding his face, and the truth of his words hit him, sinking in and eating away under his skin.

'_Because you're going, I'm going.'_

**

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: O :

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Aerith Gainsborough sips tea with all of the dignity and grace of a fine lady despite the fact that it's been an hour and the waiters are giving her funny looks, because she says she's been waiting for someone and they're all under the impression that she's been stood up. The pink dress doesn't help.

She sits up straight and tall and sips the peach-spice between pink lips, and she places the porcelain cup when she sees a dark-haired man making a bee-line for her table.

"Ienzo," she beams. "I'm so happy you contacted me."

"It's Zexion now," he murmurs quietly, leaning forward with shifting eyes.

"Don't worry. Sephiroth is being held up right now," she assures, sighing sadly as she does.

"I understand. You have more at stake than I."

"Maybe. Who's to say?"

He sits and she takes him in for the first time, raising an eyebrow as she immediately notices that something has changed in him.

"…Have you met someone?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to the topic of discussion," he grumbles, but the spark in his eyes makes her grin widen.

"Let's say it's a question from an old friend to her source of knowledge. You do forget that I'm close to the man who's hellbent on killing you and all of your friends, hm?"

"That, actually, is what I wanted to discuss with you," he murmurs. "Who exactly is Sephiroth trying to come after?"

"Everyone. You should be fine, though, considering your plans to leave once the case is solved."

"I want to take someone with me," his voice is soft, suddenly, and the tone is one Aerith has never heard him use before. She listens intently. "He was a member, until they turned on him. He's the taller boy in the pictures."

"Ah," she whispers, her face still smiling gently. She raises the tea to her lips once again despite their morbid topic of conversation and sips. "Well that's very possible. If you do me a favor."

"Hm?"

"You have to take Cloud with you," she looks out the window with a solemn look, but her smile still stays. He watches her cautiously as if waiting for the punch-line of a bad joke, and when none comes his face twists into a scowl.

"You're serious," he hisses. "You want me to take Sephiroth's favorite fuck with me into _hiding?_ Are you out of your mind?"

"You'll have your boyfriend, too. Where is he now?"

"Asleep at the hotel. And he's not my boyfriend, but there's no time for that now."

She shrugs and takes another sip. The waiter passes by and Zexion gets a cup of coffee, and they don't speak until he's returned and has taken a sip.

"Where should we go?"

She glances around warily for a moment before sliding an envelope across the table, and he takes it and quickly shoves it into his coat pocket. She leans forward and places her hands on the table, and he takes them, so that they look like two lovers whispering to each other. Aerith finds this little trick makes people less likely to eavesdrop.

"Take the train. Don't stop until you're in this little port called Traverse Town, and once you're there find Cid. He'll take you away--I've ordered him not even to tell me where, since the less I know the better. You'll stay wherever he takes you until I send word that the plan has worked."

"What if he finds out?"

"Check the obituaries. If my name is listed, then tell Cid that you have to flee immediately."

He expects her smile to be grim but it's positively radiant.

"You know something else."

"Nothing that you aren't aware of."

"And you're that sure that this is going to work?"

She nods, and calls for the bill. She finishes her tea with a contented sigh and he takes another sip of his coffee.

"I'd like to meet him, once everything's set," she says and stands, placing several munny on the table. "Your boyfriend who isn't your boyfriend."

It's then that he finally lets a grin crack. "You two'll get along swimmingly."

She nods and holds out her hand. "Promise me you'll remember Cloud?" He doesn't even hesitate as he shakes her hand. It's a strange feeling, being so sure of someone, but he barely even thinks about it, putting his life in her hands. She strides off quickly, and he stays to finish his coffee.

They're playing with matches, he's rigidly aware. It's a dangerous game, much like Russian Roulette, but their success is worth every bullet. He leaves, hoping that his 'boyfriend-who-isn't-his-boyfriend' won't notice his absence.

**

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: End Eight :

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	9. Paper Faces on Parade

AN: Soupie and Honey are pleased. They feed their reviewers with another chapter in record timing.

I really don't how I feel about this chapter...except that it was SO MUCH FUN to cowrite with my nomnomhoney. And in lieu of giving to much away I'll go onto thankyous: ANGLEOZD, The Heartbreaker, With a side of stereotype, Envious Invidia (whose last review inspired the name of the chapter, thanks boo!), Gryffindor's Newsie (Honey and I were deeply flattered by your review; blushes were abundant), CNMY (here's to another speedy update!), Orcadia (muhaha), and Kabbage Kat. You make Honey and I gush and love and WRITEWRITEWRITE!:3

For those who did not...**pwease weview?? **

Kisses!

~MwH~  
~Soupie~

_**

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Wildfire

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:: |Chapter Nine| ::

:: |Paper Faces on Parade| ::

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**C****loud **opens his eyes sometime much, much later (so it feels like, at least) to a pair of leather pants sticking to his cheek, the taste of bitter peppermint in his mouth, and a hand limp against his hair.

Squall doesn't snore. Rather, there's a soft, deep, breathy noise that makes his chest rumble with each inhale. He's slumped over currently, his back still against the headboard but his neck drooping down. And despite himself, he grabs the brunette's shit by the collar and pulls him sideways and down, so that he's laying on the bed. He awakens instantly, grunting, and goes to sit up but Cloud holds him down, shaking his head.

"Sorry you fell asleep like that. Is your neck hurt or anything?"

"No," he groans, but he's not fooling anyone. He stretches on his back, and Cloud watches his white t-shirt slide up, revealing his belly-button. "What time is it?"

"Around eight or nine, I think," he mumbles and reaches forward, hooking his thumbs through the brunette's belt-loops and pulling their hips together. Squall, still mid-stretch, grunts and offers a little devilish smile to the blonde.

"You sure you want to do that?"

"Mm…why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're probably still sore from yesterday…"

Suddenly Cloud shoots up and straddles Squall, but the expression on his face is angry. He grasps the brunette's wrists and holds them above his head, and leans down so that they're staring eye-to-eye. His voice is filled with venom when he speaks, and it makes Squall shudder a little bit, and he isn't sure if it's a good thing or a bad one.

"If you don't want to touch me anymore, then fine, but don't you _dare _tell me anything but the truth."

"That's not what I meant," Squall growls, and moves to slide his hands out from Cloud's grip. The blonde smirks and keeps his hold.

"Nope. Look at me. I was with Sephiroth yesterday. Do you want me today?"

And then there's something in Squall's gaze, something inside the stormy blue that hits Cloud like lightning, and somehow in that moment the brunette switches their positions so that he's over the blonde, and his eyes are so raw and honest that Cloud shivers beneath him.

"Yes," his answer is gruff and low, but the sound rings in Cloud's ears.

"W-What if I go again tomorrow? Will you want me the day after that?" he asks, though his voice hikes up a little when Squall runs a hand over his chest, and moves down, slowly and torturously and oh-so-lovingly--

"Yes," he says again. Cloud feels heat rush to his face at such an admittance; this is too much like a confession, until Squall says, "And you? Will you want me, even if you go to him?"

There's molten lava pumping through his veins and he bites his lip and arches into the taller figure, nodding. "Yea," he answers breathlessly, and then Squall kisses him so hard he almost loses his mind.

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Destiny Ballroom is as beautiful as it'll ever be, decorated for the themed party with silk streamers and glittering lights and beautiful colors everywhere. All of the males are dressed in suits and all the women in beautiful dresses, sleek and hip-hugging and, as always, in the latest fashion. The dance floor is packed, and despite his original fears that they'd be the only ones wearing masks, people seem to have gone all-out in buying elaborately painted masks to match their dresses or vest colors.

Kairi looks absolutely stunning; her dress is plum colored and slim-fit against her skinny self, decorated with amethysts and rubies, and her mask is elaborate with feathers and ribbons. She practically swoons with delight when the ever-handsome Riku appears at her side (donning a black velvet mask), smiling gently and offering her his arm to walk down the carpeted stairs with. He looks like a prince, and she like a princess.

Close behind is Namine, dressed as usual in white, but the lights make her glow like an angel, and the halter is short but loose like a sundress. Her mask is smaller but sparkles prettily, and beside her Sora (his mask matching Riku's only red) grins like the goofy kid he is and loops arms with her. She giggles and they stride down the stairs after their more beautiful counterparts, beaming in the applause.

"Thank you, Sora," she breathes quietly, clinging to him. "You know how much I hate crowds, and it's relieving that you and Riku offered…I mean, Kairi wouldn't mind it so much, but it really helps me."

"Aw, it's nothing, really!"

Meanwhile Kairi pulls herself closer to Riku and beams prettily; even Riku has to admit she looks gorgeous, and he leans his lips close to her ear and whispers this to her. Sora watches and tries not to let it sting as he takes Namine's hand and brings her to the front of the room.

Way in the back of the room, unnoticed by everyone else, a redhead lets out a loud laugh as he observes these actions, and the blonde beside him grins in amusement.

"Like clockwork!" he hums, amazed. "That's fantastic."

"I know. And Sora doesn't even realize how protective of him Riku is. One of these days they're just going to grab each other and figure it out, I swear it."

"Probably. Sexual chemistry like that'll cause a combustion if they don't let it out."

Roxas laughs and agrees, sipping at his cherry coke and feeling really happy that he decided to come to the event, masks and all. Axel stretches one arm over his head and sips his own drink, and peers around the room.

"So when did you know?"

"Huh?"

"When did you know that Sora was in love, and that Riku was too?"

Roxas laughs. "Well that's easy! We were watching a movie, this sappy love story or whatever, and I'm about to puke it's so bad, but Sora--he gets choked up really easily--and he just turns on the waterworks. Crying like you've never seen a guy cry, and mind you he was like fourteen or something when this happened, and Riku's face--I wish you could've seen it! He was so shocked!"

He let out a small chuckle at the memory, shaking his head, and pauses a moment, trying to gather the right words up.

"So poor Riku's sitting there and trying to console this kid, who just keeps crying harder and harder. Then he just, like it's the most natural thing in the world, puts his arms around the shrimp and pats his back and his head. And, god, you know most guys wouldn't even touch another guy like that, but he just did it…and then he said that the love in the movie was even more beautiful than any other kind of love because it was lived without fear, you know? It happened and it was raw and real and beautiful, and the only regret should be not living a life like that to the fullest…laugh all you want that I remember this, but for a freshman, it's pretty deep shit, huh?"

Axel nods, and Roxas is relieved that he's not grinning or making fun of him. He stares out at the crowd of masks with a small smile.

"I mean, at the time, I was just glad that Sora shut the hell up. But then he looks up at Riku, and…god, I wish I could describe it. His eyes were all dreamy and watery and sometimes you just know, you know? And Riku didn't even notice--just kept rubbing his back and telling him it'd be okay, while Sora was staring at him like he was going to salivate or something. When someone looks at someone else like that…you just know it."

Roxas peers down in his lap as they let his words sort of settle over them, Axel leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and Roxas right beside him, sitting on the edge of the table. Finally the redhead snorts and turns with teasing eyes.

"That," he states, "Is the most you have ever spoken, ever."

"Y-You asked!" Roxas huffs in response, and when Axel looks towards Kairi, who's thanking people and giving speeches, there's a thin sort of smile on his face.

"Has anyone ever looked at you like that?"

"What, you mean like Sora and Riku? Of course not," he scrunches his nose and shakes his head, leaning his head back against the wall. "I've never had a 'significant other,' as you put it before, of any kind. Never wanted one."

Axel recalls their prior conversation on intimacy and merely nods offhandedly. The music seems louder and Roxas puts the mask back on, watching the faces he thinks he might know as they all laugh and smile and dance in a huge pit of anonymity bobbing with the beat of some song.

"Roxas, Axel!"

Kairi flutters over with a sort of beaming grace, and kisses Axel on both of the cheeks before nodding towards Roxas. He's grateful that she's hasn't tried for contact with him, but his heart droops when she starts pulling them towards the dance floor. Sora and Namine are dancing while Riku stands nearby, and he notices Axel and Roxas before Sora does.

Roxas' heart goes into double-time, and he tugs on Axel's sleeve.

"No, no, no, Sora can't think that we're--"

"Sora, look who I found! You shy little brother and his boyfriend!"

And in that moment, Sora's face goes slack and his eyes grow wide; Riku looks just as shocked, and his eyes flicker between the two brothers. A schism crackles between the two siblings and Roxas resents Kairi in this moment as much as any. The music is a numbing ache in the back of his mind, and he licks his dry lips, unsure of what to do.

But in typical Sora fashion, he covers his shock with a huge, wide grin, and he reaches forward to pat Roxas on the back, and then offers his hand to Axel.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you! I wish Roxas had told me sooner, uhm…"

"Axel," the redhead supplies, casting wary looks at both Kairi and Roxas. "The name's Axel."

Kairi suddenly seems to realize her error and her eyes widen as mortification seeps into her eyes.

"Y-You mean you didn't--oh Roxas, I'm so sorry! I figured, since he's your brother--"

"It's fairly new," Axel murmurs, his hand grasping Roxas' shoulder. Roxas breathes and finds that the lie comes easier today, and he reaches up and puts his hand over Axel's.

"I was going to tell you…I just didn't know how. And plus, mom doesn't know, and we're trying to keep it secret…"

"It's no problem, Rox! C'mon, come dance with us, won't you?" Sora beams, and Axel grins and grabs his wrists, pulling him along. Roxas protests but Sora pushes him along, grasping Namine with the other hand. Kairi and Riku follow also.

It begins with Roxas awkwardly trying to push his way out of the throng of people, and then, upon accepting his fate, trying to stay close to Sora and Namine. But soon the brunette and the birthday girl are lost in the crowd, leaving Axel and Roxas in the midst of grinding bodies, standing close enough to kiss (given the right amount of bending by Axel, who's a head taller) and completely unmoving.

Much, much later, Roxas would realize that they must have made quite the romantic view; colored lights flashing and masked faces laughing and bodies thrusting and moving and filling with the music, while two individuals of nondescript appearance stand in the center of it all just staring at each other. He would realize that while he was preoccupied trying to figure out what strange emotion was burning wildly beneath Axel's gaze, the answer had just been mentioned not too long ago from the redhead's own lips, but he wouldn't know it at that moment.

All he knows is that suddenly Axel's hands are on his cheeks and his lips are over his.

It all happens so fast; he doesn't ache and hurt and cower, which will surprise him later upon reflection. His blood absolutely boils beneath him and suddenly he inhales, and the scent is Axel, and he tastes, and the taste is Axel, and his fingers grasp and it's Axel there too, beneath his fingertips and under his skin and inside of his racing, heated flesh, and his eyes slide shut and all he sees behind his eyelids is red and green and _god, _he can't stop, he can't stop the rush of fire or the groan from his throat or the slide of his fingers through the red hair he didn't know he needed to touch so badly.

And there's a sound that's suddenly torn from Axel's throat, deep and whining, and even though he's hot as hell (what with all these people so close) goosebumps pop up all over him; his wiry arms crush the blonde to him, and he's twenty-three at a summer party with a bunch of kids way younger than him and Roxas is only fifteen, probably the youngest present, and they're not really dating but they're pretending to because Roxas hasn't told anyone about something dark and terrible that ruined his life, but that doesn't matter, _none _of it matters because there is only a desperate need and Axel, Axel, _Axel._

In the end it's Axel who breaks the kiss, and Roxas shudders at the sound of their lips pulling away, which he somehow hears over the music, and his face is red and his eyes are burning bright and sweet and he feels so embarrassed that he presses his masked forehead against Axel's collarbone, and his shoulders begin to shake.

At first, Axel panics, and cries his name and grasps his shoulders but Roxas' arms loop around his thin waist and he's hugging Axel and laughing, laughing, because it's so bizarre and wonderful and Axel was right, he was right about kissing and how when it happens the ghosts don't haunt and the wounds don't sting, it's just inner flurries and pulsating and fascination and _Axel_.

It's nothing like a first kiss should be. It's too clumsy and Roxas feels like his lips are bruised and they're panting too heavily and there are way too many people around them and when some go back to school they'll tell everyone and their mom about Roxas and his fiery lover, and he'll be burned by his own lie…but truth to be told he's never been so happy to be scalded in his life.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

Riku knows when Sora's offended, and even though he smiles and laughs and teases Roxas about catching them in such an intimate embrace, he can see the hurt creeping into the corners of his eyes. And when he sees Namine by herself and inquires as to Sora's whereabouts, he finds that she doesn't know, and he assumes he does.

He makes his way down to the beach and finds him, mask discarded and staring out into the sea. The waves are soft and hum against the deafening sound of the booming music inside.

"Great party, huh?"

Sora's thin frame jumps in shock, and he peers over his shoulder with eyes that reveal his whole world to Riku. The brunette nods and stares up at the moon, relishing in its silvery light.

"Yea," he nods. "What less from Kairi, though, right?"

"She's really, really happy tonight."

"Yea, I know. She's so pretty, too. And Namine!"

"Right," Riku nods, but his throat is dry. Hesitantly, he sits beside the smaller boy and bites his lip.

"…How could he not tell me?" Sora murmurs, both to himself and for Riku, whom he considers so much a part of him that he doesn't mind confiding in him despite the divide between them. "I mean, we tell each other _everything…_well, he doesn't have much to tell about anything, but if he did he would totally tell me!"

"He was probably scared of your opinion."

"I don't get it…I've never so much as heard of him having interest in anyone…I mean I don't mind that he's gay, and that Axel guy seems pretty cool, but I had no idea he was hiding something!"

"You know him," Riku shrugs, leaning back on his palms. "He could be hiding any number of things. It's in his nature to wait until he's ready. Kairi sort of gave that a preemptive jump, I guess."

"And how did SHE know?!" Sora groans, falling onto his back in the sand. Riku chuckles and looks up at the sky. There are thin, wispy grey clouds that glow in the light of the moon, and he watches them curiously.

"Talk to him," Riku says. "Tell him how you feel."

"I feel like…I always tell him my issues. That he doesn't feel he can open up to me."

"He knows," he murmurs. "You love him and he knows it, I promise."

Sora smiles and nods against the sand, his eyes closed. On the tip of his tongue he feels the urge to finish telling Riku his own feelings, but something stops him from ruining their little moment, this piece of familiarity he's missed so much. He wants to open his heart out and just let it go, because holding it back hurts too much and he's almost content with spilling it all for Riku to accept or deny or come what may…

But this moment is nice, and it's good enough for now.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

It starts out with all of the regular pleasantries; she smiles politely and lets them inside without a second thought. She's sorry that the boys aren't home to greet them, but Roxas and Sora slept over a friend's house and aren't expected back until late afternoon, and it's only ten in the morning. She offers them coffee, and they both take it, thanking her graciously and sitting themselves at her kitchen table. It's a bright room with lots of pictures, and Zexion and Demyx both recognize one of the two young boys in some of the photos, and Demyx is the one who stands to look at them.

A brunette and Roxas, who can't be more than four, both holding fish on fishing poles with twin grins that spread out across their faces. Another, probably in the same year, of Roxas scrunching his face while his beaming brother slaps a Christmas bow on his head in a sea of wrapping paper. The brunette, much older with someone else, a friend, at a beach, and Roxas is in the background, glancing uncomfortably at the camera. Roxas looks like a teenager, and Demyx shudders and turns away as Aoi returns with three teacups balanced in her hands.

"Waitress," Zexion assumes, and she chuckles. The sound is the sort of Campbell's Hearty Chicken Noodle warm that can be found in maternal figures who love their life and love their family, and both men feel guilty about what they're about to do.

"It's synonymous with being an actress, and that's what I wanted to be when I was a teenager. Silly, huh?"

"Hardly," Demyx says immediately, and offers a tentative smile. Zexion clears his throat and sips at the coffee; it tastes delicious. Demyx sits down and so does Aoi, for the first time looking slightly nervous and a little curious.

"So," she says, biting her lip. "What brings you two handsome young detectives to my doorstep?"

"I'm not a detective," Demyx blurts out, and she raises an eyebrow, while Zexion sips his coffee. The blonde flushes and shrugs. "I'm just…uh, an accomplice."

"Mrs. Hikari--"

"Oh!" she giggles, a spark of girlish youth. "Oh, no--please, call me Aoi. I'm not married, anyway," she smiles, completely resent-less and holding up her left hand.

"My mistake. Aoi, then. Do you…we understand you aren't aware of…" he hesitates, and then sighs heavily and pulls up his briefcase. His fingers slip around the manila folder and he slides it across the table to her, and she looks at it cautiously, and then glances back up uncertainly.

"There's no easy way to do this, so you can just…see for yourself."

Her fingers are diligent and calm as she slides open the folder and lets the Polaroid's skid out onto the kitchen table. They are long and elegant and bare of rings and jewelry, and they do not shake when she picks up the first picture, her gaze rushing from confused to disbelieving and horrified; she clears her throat, but the sound is strange and forced, and her hands do begin to tremble as she raises one hand to cover her mouth. The whites of her eyes begin to redden and she looks at them, her chin shaking.

"…What…the hell is this?" she tries to keep her tone calm, but nothing can stop it from quivering. "What the _hell _is this?!" she repeats, louder and angrier with pure, unadulterated hysteria in her eyes. It's too much for someone to see and Demyx looks away, looks at the pictures on the wall and decides he'd so rather be curled up in a ball in the hotel room or stacking chocolates, but they're here, and the silence is twisted by the sound of Aoi's sharp, strained breaths.

"About six years ago you sent your son off to a summer camp," Zexion says, quietly. "One of the counselors was a very sick man, and he…well…my job is to make sure he never has the opportunity to do that again. To do that, we need Roxas' help."

"I just," she chokes, and then stops herself, and the waterworks begin; tears, thick and wet, leak out of the corners of her eyes and slide down her chin, and a strong sob wracks her frail body, and she tries to bite it back, she tries so hard, but they just keep coming and she curls over, feeling foolish, feeling like she's _failed, _feeling so horrible and hurt because her son, her baby, her Roxas has gone through this alone, and she had no idea. "I need a minute."

"Of course," Zexion murmurs, and Demyx and he glance at each other from the corners of their eyes. Zexion's eyes are wild with panic; he's never had to tell a mother something like this, he's never had to see such a reaction, and even though he told himself this was going to be hard, he knows he's here to help, and that she was going to be beyond herself, the grief and anger hits him like an emotional bag of bricks to the face.

Demyx reaches over and grabs his hand and squeezes it, and the action does little to ease the wretched feeling in his gut, but it does help a little, and so he squeezes back.

Aoi pushes the chair she's in away from the table and walks with a straight back into the bathroom, but it doesn't stop the fact that they can here her retching and bawling in a moment of a breakdown in its entirety, the sound echoing into the tiled walls.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

_Sora holds onto his brother with tears stuck in his baby-blues, sniffling and whimpering and excited and nervous and gods, he's never been so long without his brother that he can remember, and Roxas pats his back and rolls his eyes, trying to put on a show so his mother doesn't notice how scared he is too. Sora has always been there, to ruffle his hair and hold his hand and help him tie his shoes when his fingers are too clumsy, singing songs and dancing and playing games all day through. _

"_You're going to have a great time at summer camp," Aoi beams, and joins into the hug, a family of three and bittersweet at the prospect of having a summer all by herself, but work requires it and she's in no position to turn down this opportunity. "Both of you."_

"_Promise?" Sora asks, and she coos and pats his head while she gently scratches Roxas' back. He closes his eyes._

"_I promise. You're going to have the best time ever!" she beams. There are several yellow school buses lined up nearby, with mothers and fathers and sons clinging tightly to each other, whimpering their goodbyes. It's two whole months, and everyone is torn between the fun they're going to have and the people they're going to miss when they're gone._

"_Okay!" Aoi breathes, and stands up from her crouched position. Sora nods and lets his brother go, and instead grabs his backpack and his enormous duffel bag, filled with his possessions and almost too big for him to heave onto the bus. He sits all the way in the back, in the three-seater by himself, as the bus fills up. _

"_Come on, Roxas," she says, holding out her hand. He grasps it nervously, feeling more alone than he's ever felt. He's never been as good at making friends as Sora has, and he and his mother both worry silently over what'll happen._

"_You're going to have so much fun, Roxas," she murmurs as they stand in front of his own bus. Sora's heaves to a start, and they both jerk their heads up. Someone else has the window seat, a boy who looks like he'll grow up to be very, very handsome, while Sora climbs over him, limbs reaching for the window. The silver-haired one looks perturbed and amused all at once as Sora desperately waves to his family going away, and then the bus is taking off, and Roxas looks down at his own bag. It's a little smaller than Sora's, since he didn't want to bring ALL of his toys…_

"_I love you," Aoi says, scooping up the small boy in her arms and kissing him on the cheek. "I love you so much, and I can't wait to see you again."_

_She puts him back down and he boards his own bus, sitting on the front-most seat. There are blondes and brunettes and redheads, boys and girls, all his age, and they all clamber about excitedly while he nervously hugs his bag to his chest and watches his mother from the window. Sora's always said how they have the prettiest mother in the world, and he can't help but believe it as he waits to begin the countdown until he can see her and Sora again._

_The bus jerks to a start, and the children around him screech enthusiastically. He smiles out the window and tries to ignore the instinct inside of him that tells him not to stray far from his mom, to stay close and stay safe, but she smiles back and waves as the bus pulls away, and he knows everything will be alright. Everything will be alright._

**

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**

: End Nine :

* * *


	10. Striking Matches

AN: Unfortunately, kiddies, this may be the last update for a little while. At least, it'll certainly be more than five days--we apologize for the inconvenience, and hope that you stick with us. Consider, if you will, that this has been Part I of Wildfire, and Part II will be coming soon. Please enjoy, though!

And to our dearest darling reviewers! The Infamous Me (S: someone referred this to you? you must give us their name so that we may shower them in kisses and gratitude! H: Roxas' coping methood is simply that he doesn't cope--he pushes everything out of sight and out of mind. Keep reading and you'll watch him learn how effective that is...), The Heartbreaker, Wiro x, A-chan, With a side of stereotype (3), Kawaii Shu-chan (S: Danke, danke, danke!), chicago x pillowz (S: I'm holding you to your promise of a lengthy review, love, pweeease???), Blaithin-mae (H: eeks! I feel if you don't like cliffhangers you'll hate me for this chapter...:P), CNMY (33333 H: Your endless support for us serves as a constant reminder as to why I write, thank you so, so, so much for being here since forever, every one of your reviews makes my day! S: Kukukuku, I think you'll like this chapter if you're a RiSo fan...) Envious Invidia (3333 H: WE'RE SORRY THAT YOU CRIED!! Or maybe we're slightly flattered...? Thank you also for being here since the beginning, seeing our story grow! I always look forward to your feedback. :3), cheesynoodle, and youngnozomi!!!!

* scene change: honey's basement. one computer, two chairs. dark, dismal surroundings. honey is tied to one chair, seated before the computer; light onto soupie *

Hello. For zero cents a day you could feed M.w.H. (with feedback). It'll just take a few minutes of your time. You can make a difference...

* honey sobs *

**R E V I E W .**

Kisses!  
~Soupie~  
~M.w.H.~

**

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**

Wildfire

* * *

:: |Chapter Ten| ::

:: |Striking Matches| ::

* * *

**A****fter** the masquerade is over, Roxas and Axel are invited to Kairi's (along with Sora and Riku, whose suits are covered in sand) but they decline, and instead Roxas follows Axel shyly out back to the hole in the wall, and together they crawl into the mansion. What was once effortless conversation is now an anxious silence, since words seem sort of unnecessary. And even if they weren't, Roxas wouldn't know what to say.

As he walks behind the tall, lanky redhead he feels the strangest sensations rolling over him. One is his face, which keeps itching to break out into a wide smile and turn deep red. His lips tingle with the memory of only a few timeless moments in the middle of a crowded room and he shoves his clenched fists into his pockets.

The clock tower suddenly chimes, and the sound makes him jump. His skin is pleasantly hypersensitive and his belly is floating and he feels completely and irretrievably alive.

"It's two in the morning," Axel says, and his voice clear and low and somehow so close to Roxas that he can _feel _it. Everything is so foreign and familiar at the same time and he doesn't know what to think.

"Y-Yea," he says, but his throat is so tight that it comes out an octave and a half too high, and when Axel turns it's with a smug grin. The moonlight flashes in his eyes as he opens the door, and Roxas follows him inside.

"Roxas," he murmurs, and the sound makes something inside of him twist strangely. Axel reaches out and grasps his wrist and pulls him close. His nose rubs against Axel's, and Roxas scrunches his face and squirms away. The redhead's other hand forward, though, and grasped his waist, pulling him close.

"What're you doing?" Roxas asks, and Axel chuckles and presses his lips gently against the blonde's, and something inside of him spikes and flares. And he doesn't know how to kiss, he never has and he never thought he would and being good at it never crossed his mind before but now it's a thought that tugs at him, so he just moves on instinct. He inhales and reaches up, hands coming around to Axel's face and holding him there. His jaw is strong and he runs his thumb over his cheeks, where he knows his tattoo's are, and his eyes slip open.

Axel hums, his own eyes shut and dark lashes fluttering and it's too much for Roxas to look at so he closes his eyes again. Axel's hands are red-hot and they slide up his side, gripping--_gripping, clutching, groping hands against his side and he's bawling his eyes out and he wants to scream in protest but the fingers dig into his ribcage and hold him still for the--_and it's then that Roxas gasps, and his hands find the redhead's chest, and he pushes away.

"S-Stop…"

It had been such a brief moment that he'd felt normal. Such a brief, ephemeral second where he was a normal hormonal teenager, and then it's over, and he glances up expecting to see hurt and confusion or maybe even anger, but Axel's eyes are burning and warm and he's grinning.

"It's good," he murmurs, and he sounds breathless. "I didn't think you could."

A flash of anger bolts through the blonde, as if struck by lightning from his words, and he scowls up at his seemingly amused companion.

"Wh-What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I just didn't even expect to get that far with you, because, you know--"

"Don't talk like that," he murmurs, his face burning in shame. He looks away and tries not to admit that his eyes are stinging--not from sadness, but from humiliation and embarrassment, and his fingers fall limp against the redhead's chest. "Like I'm a…like I'm a goddamn…any other kid in the world in my position right now wouldn't be…wouldn't be having this…"

"I know," Axel says, letting his grip relax a little and looking sympathetic.

"It's not fair. It's not!" he hisses, pushing Axel away from him entirely and starting towards the door. The redhead beats him to it, though, standing in front of it with his hand on the knob.

"Don't go," he mutters, and this time it's his turn to glance away, suddenly impossibly uncertain. "C'mon. I'll make you some food, or something. We can talk, yea?" And for some reason, this only seems to fuel Roxas' sudden fire, and he tries to shove Axel away, wishing that the ground would just swallow him whole. When Axel refuses to move, though, he steps back and pushes him by the shoulders against the door, blushing furiously at his own actions but proceeding to do them anyway.

"Why are you doing this? Don't you have anything better to e doing with your time than spending it with some basket-case like me? Why did you even approach me that day? Were you looking for me, or did you just happen to see me and recognize me?"

"You're upset," Axel states, his gaze hard. "And you're not going anywhere."

"Do you want me?" Roxas blurts out, and his throat is so dry and tight and his voice trembles as he says the words he's been wondering for weeks, the words that twist with the colors in his mind and haunt him because what he feels is suddenly so much stronger than he remembers, so much more, and he can't let him know because there's too much to lose. _God, _he's so stupid--why would he say something like that, the question is loaded and he knows fully well that he shouldn't even be bringing up such a touchy subject in this moment that had just been so sweet. Axel's face hardens even more and his eyes _blaze_, fiery and hot.

"Even if I do," Axel says quietly, and then smirks his familiar, impish smirk. "I'll have to wait. You're _totally _illegal, kid."

And he slips away from the door and heads into the kitchen, glancing back expectantly. Roxas is still bright red but this time his expression is less violent and frantic; more surprised, as he'd half expected Axel to say no and push him away and admit he'd just felt bad for him. And instead of leaving like he'd said he would, Roxas finds himself suddenly famished and follows humbly, grumbling something about idiot redheads.

It's all so strange to him; a day ago he'd been squirming away from every touch, and now as he watches Axel scrape together some grilled cheese, he's itching for…something. Some type of contact, some kind of reassurance that this isn't a dream. Because for just a split second there, he'd forgotten about everything--_everything--_except Axel's lips and hands and skin, and he'd give _anything _for that feeling again.

"You can stay here tonight. I'll take you home tomorrow morning. I think I've got some sweats that'll dwarf you--"

"Oh please, I won't be able to fit the waistband around my ankle, skinny," he snips, crossing his arms over his chest, and Axel grins as he flips the sandwiches.

"Ha, ha, ha," he says dryly, and Roxas grins. It's warm in the room, not summer-warm but pleasantly so, and he pulls his knees to his chest on the chair. They talk amiably about the party, Riku and Sora, cabbages and kings, and when all is said and done their mouths are slick from grilled cheese and water and Roxas yawns.

"Tired?"

"Nn," he nods, rubbing his eyes. He's not used to staying up late, or heavy emotional stress. Axel stands up and he follows him into the bedroom, where he gives him a pair of shorts and a wife beater.

He changes in the bathroom, secretly relishing in the smell of the shirt. He pokes around a bit, looking through the empty medicine cabinets, and when he heads back into the room a smile bursts onto his face. Axel, shirtless and sockless and wearing naught but black boxers lays face-down on the bed, eyes closed and hugging a pillow. He looks around a moment and then glances at the king-sized bed. Axel is only taking up a tiny portion of the massive bed, and he could easily fit--

'_What am I thinking?' _he thinks to himself with a blush. _'No way.'_

He pulls a pillow off of the bed and puts it on the loveseat. The pillow smells delicious, and he hugs it to himself, curling up and falling into a dreamless but peaceful sleep.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

Kairi and Namine's house is the biggest in Twilight Town, so most of their friends manage to squeeze sleeping bags beside each other, and at four in the morning all but one of the individuals has fallen asleep. The room smells like cheap alcohol, a fact that goes unnoticed by Riku as he watches his best friend sleep.

"You awake?"

The soft, delicate voice startles Riku and he turns to see Namine, sitting up from the floor and smiling sweetly. He grins and nods, suddenly painfully aware that he's just spent the better part of a half hour watching the gentle fluttering of thick, dark lashes on high cheekbones. He's snoring gently, a little buzz of a sound, one that he's grown very accustomed to hearing.

"Yea…just thinking…"

"About Sora?"

He looks up with every intention of denying any such claim but Namine walks over, dressed in a cami and boy shorts and looking adorable and understanding. She kneels down beside him and takes one hand in her own, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"Kairi and I know."

"Know what?" he mutters, feeling much like a mouse that's just been cornered in a very small maze. She looks down at Sora and runs a gentle hand through his messy brown locks.

"You have to tell him."

"I…I kissed him," he says, and his voice is barely there and strained. His eyes are on the smaller, more excitable boy, and the strangest urge to lay beside him and just hold him washes over him. Namine doesn't look surprised, but she remains quiet, just listening.

"I don't know…why it happened, he was just so damn…so cute, and I just did it…and he was so surprised--"

"In a bad way?" she interjects curiously. Riku shrugs helplessly.

"Sora isn't just…he's my _everything. _Like, when I wake up he's my very first thought and when I go to bed I--I don't just wish he was there with me, it's this horrible ache that I want him there."

His admission goes uninterrupted by the blonde, who simply nods in encouragement. He continues talking, words bubbling out before he can stop them, and even if he wants to they've gone too long unspoken.

"I always think about him and I want him--_God, _I want him. More than I've ever wanted anyone before…"

"Why don't you tell him this?" she asks curiously. He sighs and rests his head in his arms.

"I'm not good enough--and I'm not just feeling sorry for myself or anything. It's just…" he pauses, lips pursing. "My first time was in a diner, after hours, with a total stranger. I was picking up a coffee and this girl smiles and pulls me into the back room and unzips my pants, and that was that. I was fourteen. But Sora…he's the kind of person who'd want everything to be perfect, and who wants to be head over heels the first time. It's a big difference, you know?"

Namine shrugs peering into the darkness with a smile.

"I just can't risk it. It's too much to lose."

He feels the words heavily, and once they're said he bites his lip and scratches his head. Namine feels herself smile brighter, though, as the words lie unspoken on her tongue; _He's in love with you too._ But this is something that she can't just say, that he has to figure out for himself.

"…It's worth it," she finally says. "It's worth everything. You're his best friend and think about how you've been treating him lately."

"I've been trying to be back to normal--"

"You never used to use Kairi or me," she giggles, grudgeless. "And you always used to be near him, somehow--touching, playing around, somehow you guys were inseparable. And now there's just this…gap. And the only way to make it better is to tell him. Because he might just return your sentiments."

He looks at her and she beams, and fakes a yawn.

"I'm going back to bed. Think about it."

Riku listens to the sound Namine crawling back into her bed, and regrets suddenly not thanking her for listening. He sighs and turns his attention to the sliding doors, and watches the waves over the rooftops of the town.

He doesn't notice that the sound of Sora's buzz-snore has stopped, or that his face is cherry red and a grin is itching on his face (which is suddenly pressed into the pillow to repress some sort of sound of joy) or that, in fact, he is very much awake and aware of the conversation Riku and Namine have just had.

Namine, meanwhile, lays back down facing her twin. With a satisfied smirk she holds out her hand, extending her pinky, and Kairi takes it with her own, a silent agreement of success. The two share a private giggle with each other, unheard by the lamenting Riku and the sleeping drunks in their home, and this moment is the best birthday present either's gotten from anyone.

**

* * *

**

: O :

* * *

When Squall finally makes his way back to his own house, his initial reaction is to avoid seeing Yuffie, because he's pissed off and doesn't have the tolerance to deal with her suggestive grins and remarks, but his cover is blown by thirteen small animals yipping and barking and licking his heels and wagging their spotted tails, and the girl comes to him with a knowing smirk.

"Funny. I didn't think giving tea took--"

"Whatever," he grunts and strides past her up to his room, slamming the door behind him. This feeling is irrational and ridiculous, but he hates it so, so much.

"_I have to go…he'll be expecting me."_

It's not that he's never been hurt before. It's not that he even wants to consider the fact that he even _can_ be hurt, but the truth twists at his heartstrings and sends his blood boiling in a way that is anything but pleasant.

"_Can I meet you later?"_ he'd asked the blonde, letting his fingers slide against his straight, pretty locks of hair. It was still wet from the shower they'd taken together, and then came the part he hated the most. The look on the blonde's face of unwilling but undeniable rejection.

"_I'm not sure if today's good…_"

And in that moment he realized exactly how attached to him he really is.

A million questions filled his head, on why he shouldn't just march up to this Sephiroth and strangle him with his supposed super-long hair and poke out his supposedly glowing green eyes. He wants to hurt the sadistic stranger who injects Cloud's eyes with fear.

**

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: O :

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Axel couldn't have been asleep more than fifteen minutes (so it feels like, at least,) when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he grumbles angrily and flips over on his bed in a futile attempt to slide back beneath the covers and into his dreams. But Roxas is persistent, and he tugs on the blanket with one hand and shakes the redhead with the other.

"Axel," his voice is breathless and excited, like a kid on Christmas morning, and his pursuit is relentless. "Axel, wake up."

"No fucking way, I'm beat," Axel attempts to say, but all that comes out is a series of sounds and grunts, "Nmmffngymbt…"

"Don't puss, just get up. C'mon!"

What happens next (in Axel's foggy, sleep-spun mind) is a blur of dark colors and Roxas, his eyes sparkling and somehow completely unfazed by the hour. They somehow make it to the roof, where the sun is just beginning to rise, creating a backdrop of soft sorbet colors over the dark treetops.

"This is going to be sweet," Roxas grins, and Axel just grumbles incoherently, trying to wake up a bit.

"Can I get some coffee first?"

Roxas hesitates, his face falling a bit, and Axel wishes he hadn't said anything, but then the blonde smirks.

"I'll get it for you. Stay here, for real! You always show me stuff, and if this…if it's going to be as pretty as I think it is, then I'll feel less like a dummy."

"Wh…What are you talking about?" he groans, his voice still raspy, and Roxas laughs and climbs down, out of sight.

The moments pass by and Axel sits on the roof with his eyes sliding shut, but then the very first rays of the sun finally make it over the trees and into the room, giving an orange-ish tint to the sky. He watches the small line grow, little by little, and soon after Roxas appears, grinning and brandishing two mugs filled with rich, steaming coffee.

"I like sunrises," he says, and his voice is warm. "It's sort of stupid, but everyone and their mom has seen a sunset before, you know? And sunrises are just as pretty, but you have to make an effort to get up and see."

Axel turns his head and looks at the smaller boy, who's smiling freely and serenely. He looks truly _happy _for the first time since he's known him, and the morning sky casts an orange tint on his slightly-tanned face. The sight makes something inside of Axel's chest tighten and clench.

"Huh. Never thought of it like that," he grunts, sipping at his coffee. Roxas looks at him warily, and Axel's face breaks into a grin.

"C'mere."

He extends an arm so that Roxas can rest against him, and the blonde scoots closer, his head resting against his shoulder. Axel wraps the arm around him and kisses him on the top of the head, and they sit sipping coffee while they watch what the world sleeps through.

Axel doesn't consider many moments in life to be perfect, but sitting on the roof with the damaged boy who pulls at his very soul with his smiles and scowls at daybreak with the taste of coffee in his mouth and infinity at their feet is definitely one of them.

**

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: O :

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When Aerith returns, Sephiroth is laying on the hotel bed like a king and Cloud's face is as blank as a slate. It pains her to see him like this, but she smiles like everything's fine. Sephiroth nods to her and stands.

"Where were you?"

"Shopping," she answers, and holds up the basket of fruit she's picked up, but before another word can come through her mouth he backhands her so hard that she falls, peaches and apples scattering. She kneels in surprise, a hand covering her stinging, reddening cheek, trying to wipe away the shocked and pained look on her face.

"I hate when you lie, dear sister," he says, and grasps her by her elbow to yank her back up again. In her face he sees a flicker of fear and this makes him grin coldly.

"I'm not," her voice is strained and fearful. "I mean it, Seph. I wanted some fruit."

"Liar, liar," he sings softly, and yanks her by her arm, using the momentum to push her across the small room. She smacks the wall with a sickening crack, and when she falls to the ground again she grips her hand with visible agony. Two fingers are bent at an impossible angle, and Cloud springs to his feet and kneels beside her.

"Sephiroth, stop," he hisses, and Aerith watches him with panic. Interfering when Sephiroth's in one of his moods is never a good idea, even if Aerith and Cloud were the closest two people to him. Sephiroth raises his foot brings it down hard on Cloud's back, right where he'd been cut before, and the blonde grits his teeth and grips the floor. Blood seeps through the bandage and stains his shirt. He repeats the action a few more times while Aerith uses her good hand to grasp Cloud's fist. _'I'm right here with you,' _she says without words. _'We're in this together.'_

Once his temporary fury is sated, the tall man inhales through his nose and grins. "I want you two to take a walk. Find me members of the Organization. And don't disappoint me."

He leaves the room with a gentle click of the door, and Aerith curls over the blonde, who's still laying. He feels tears warm his shoulders and he sighs heavily, sitting up.

"It's alright," he murmurs. "It's not so bad. Let's set your fingers."

She nods but doesn't move, instead allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. Her crying is silent and he knows she's scared, so he strokes her hair and rubs her back. The sound of a shaky inhale breaks his heart and he holds the girl he loves as his own sister.

He remembers when they were children; he remembers hiding in the closet with her, neither even trying to make light of the situation, and it's evident to him that nothing has changed.

**

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**

: O :

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Axel's car is thrumming unpleasantly as Roxas makes the walk up his yard. The redhead in question is leaning out the window--he told him he'd wait just to make sure he got inside, which is irrational, because Roxas tells him where the spare key is hidden, but he won't have it. "One day, when you're outside and the rain is pouring and your key snaps in half, you'll thank me with a blowjob," he says in his 'as-a-matter-of-fact' tone, and Roxas shoves him so hard he hits his head on the window, and cries out from the shock of it. The sound, Roxas finds, is rather satisfying. (Though, and he'll never say it aloud, not as satisfying as the feeling when Axel grabs his wrist and pulls him close for one quick last kiss before he leaves.)

There's a car in the driveway, an unfamiliar blue one, and Roxas thinks it looks a bit like Riku's, and maybe he and Sora made it home already, which is odd because it can't be noon and they're never home early. He rings the doorbell and turns to look back at Axel, who's slumped over and looking very bored. Roxas makes a face, and Axel makes one back, and the blonde grins, his heart thumping. Everything is still so new and undiscovered between them, but he still likes their stupid games.

And then Axel's face turns dead serious, his eyes locking on the blue car. They widen, and he looks panicked, but after a moment he starts his car. It screeches loudly as he jets off into the light, and Roxas feels a small hesitance, a moment of foreboding, but he knocks on the door.

The door flings open. His mother's eyes are like pinwheels, red from crying, and black makeup is smeared unabashed all over her cheeks. She falls to her knees and grasps her son, frantic sobs wracking from her thin frame. Instantly Roxas kneels to hold her, confusion and fear taking over.

"M-Mom! What's wrong?"

Behind her in the doorway, Zexion and Demyx appear, side-by-side and tight lipped.

Roxas isn't sure how much time passes as he stands before the detective and his blonde companion, and the moment their eyes meet he feels his skin prickle and his senses go haywire, because those eyes--he'd know them anywhere, he'd know that face, it hasn't changed that much--and he has to leave, he has to. His mother grips him like he's her only lifeline, and yet the nausea that rises in his belly pleas, begs, screams at him to _get the fuck away._

"Roxas," the darker one, the one he doesn't recognize, speaks first, but aside from his name, he can't make out any other words, because Demyx is staring back. He's grown some, taller and broader, but he's still the same, still haunted in the back of his eyes, and the sight is a reflection in Roxas' heart. But in Demyx there is more acceptance, more of an understanding as to why it happened and how anyone could let it. As if he were resigned to live with it, to actually admit it happened--

"Axel," he chokes beneath the weight of his entire world crumbling. He hears screaming, more crying, desperation and horror from his mom, but he blocks the sound out by covering his ears, smashing his palms against the appendages until he hears a ringing sound. His vision starts to blur and distort so he closes his eyes and his knees buckle. He falls to the ground, curling into a small ball and wishing, praying that the world would just swallow him up. Behind his eyes he forces away this horrible feeling of being trapped and instead thinks of red and green and that night on the beach, in the clock tower, _curled up just like this as the feeling of being so, so cold even though it's summertime when he hears the footsteps getting close, each sound making his heart race faster and faster--_ "Axel..."

But Axel doesn't hear him, because he's already fled from the scene like a startled mouse.

**

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: End Ten :

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	11. Roses Are Red

**H **A **P **P **Y **V** A **L **E** N** T** I** N **E ' **S **D **A **Y **!**

Honey and myself wish you all the best in your own love lives; lord nows that starting next chapter, Roxas' is about to get a leeeeetle more complicated. ;D

Uber thanks to: The Heartbreaker, Orcadia, With a side of stereotype, Teh Kitsune, A-Chan, The Infamous Me (S-I'm sorry to hear that you know from experience, but I don't think we've revealed everything that's happened yet?) Mary the Contrary, Raining Diamonds, xxBeautifulxxNightmarexx, A~, , Trainra, CNMY (H: *blush*), Kairitakishita, lionpride0601, thegreatwhitewolf, and shinimoeru, for your lovely reviews

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Wildfire

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:: |Chapter Eleven| ::

:: |Roses Are Red| ::

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**I****t's** either hours or minutes later that they're in his kitchen, and his mother has since been calmed down a little but her eyes are puffy and desperate and broken, like a music box that's been wound up too tightly. Roxas refuses to let his eyes move towards Demyx, or anywhere up from the table for that matter. He breathes slowly and shakily, his mind blank.

The pictures are on the table, face-down.

"Roxas," Zexion says. His voice is monotone, but on the very edges it crackles in pain. "I know this is hard for you. But I need you to tell me everything about the people that took these pictures."

He doesn't speak. He doesn't think. He just sits and bites his lip and shakes his head. Those memories are locked away in a secret chest in his mind, and opening it would break him in two, and he refuses to acknowledge that he knows anything. Blank. Just blank.

"Take as much time as you need," Demyx says quietly, despite the look Zexion shoots him. "I know this is hard for you--"

"D-Don't," he manages to squeak out. "Stop it."

His stomach does something funny in his abdomen, because all he's eaten today is a cup of coffee but it feels like there's lead inside there anyway. This strange hybrid feeling between turkey-dinner full and starving distracts him a little, and he'd rather feel this grossness than--than that.

They silently wait, as if suddenly he'll just start dribbling details and everything will be fine, just like that. He doesn't. He keeps his secrets locked behind tight lips. Everything's ruined now. He could have dealt before, just pretending it didn't happen and distracting himself with work or Axel or whatever he needed, but now this monster is staring him right in the face, and his mother…

Now she knows her little boy is infamous to pedophiles, particularly the richer ones. After all, pictures like his cost a pretty penny, and just thinking about it--them, looking at him--

He feels _disgusting_.

"Roxas," Aoi says, and her voice is rigid but saturated in emptiness. "Please."

For her, he'd do anything. He'd walk a hundred miles with Sora on his back in summertime every day just to make her happy. She's his _mother--_she taught him how to read and how to make little 'x's' in mosquito bites to make them stop itching, and just the right temperature to bake cookies for that crunchy outside and gooey inside, and he knows that she loves him with every inch of her heart. And he loves her back.

But this is almost too much to ask. The detectives look eager and he knows they're trying to help, and his mother is on the brink of something horrible, and he takes a short breath; it gets stuck in his throat, which constricts so much. He forces the demons away, though, clenching his fists in his lap and licking his impossibly dry lips.

'…_I'll try. For mom.'_

"…Don't tell Sora," he says quietly, and his voice shakes. "If he asks, don't tell him. Please."

She cracks a bit again; the tears she'd been holding back slide past her mask of self-control, but she doesn't sob or bawl or act out. She nods and wipes them away with her palm.

"Okay," she whispers. Zexion and Demyx glance at each other anxiously, and he takes a strangled breath.

**

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: O :

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_It's the fourth day and Roxas has had no luck in making a single friend; those that approach from intimidate him and he shies away until they give up or laugh at him, and he blushes as he curls up in a tight, small ball in the corner of the wooden bunks._

_Everyone's beds seem to match their personalities, filled with Star-Wars bed sheets and Teddy Ruxpins to cuddle with at night. Roxas has none--only a plain blue comforter and plain white sheets. Everyone else is at lunch, and Roxas can't the fact that everyone is going to be there, everyone is going to be together and laughing and talking and he hasn't the slightest on how to do that without Sora._

_He misses his brother so much already; it hurts to think about._

_After awhile, since no one seems to notice his absence, he dares to head outside and sits near the pile of wood that they use for bonfires. He pretends that he's a pirate that's lost his ship, and walks around in circles, murmuring quietly to himself and sparring invisible enemies. After all he's just a little boy, and little boys are apt to big imaginations that don't always require interaction._

"_What're you doing?"_

_He jumps a mile and turns around. The man in front of him has bluish hair and amber eyes, and he raises a calm, observant eyebrow. Roxas stops and flushes, dropping the stick he'd been using for a sword. He doesn't answer the counselor, instead looking down. The man pauses and grins, and there's something slightly off about this look--like his face is a picture on paper instead of real-life, but Roxas doesn't understand this. _

"_Let's bring you with the children."_

"_Can't I stay here by myself?" Roxas asks, peering up at him pleadingly. There's only a second's pause before the counselor shakes his head._

"_How about you come stay with the adults for a little while? You can make us tea if you want. The others won't miss you."_

_Roxas weighs this option for barely a minute before smiling brightly, and he nods. He's always loved being useful. He isn't aware that Saix is testing the waters--see if anyone notices he's gone, if anyone says anything about the counselors and their little pet. They can't be caught, and he's such a pretty boy--_

"_Okay!" Roxas confirms._

"_My name is Saix," he says, and reaches a hand forward. He pats Roxas on the head, and the blonde fails to notice how his eyes glisten and how his hand shakes, and the thick, deep exhale of breath as Saix's hands take the soft blonde locks. Roxas doesn't complain when Saix takes his hand and they start back to the counselor's hut._

**

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: O :

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And then he clams up again; his words halt and he shakes his head. His mind is empty and his eyes are stinging but he bites back from crying, because his ability to refrain from doing so is all he has left. Instead he opts to blinking his heavy eyelids and biting his lip. Zexion is about to say something else but Demyx puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let him be," he murmurs. Without excusing himself, Roxas pushes the chair away and walks out, the door slamming behind him. Aoi rests her head on her arms and lets out a breath laden with tears.

"He's going to the ocean," she whispers. "I think so, at least…when he and Sora quarrel that's where he goes to cool off. You can stay if you'd like."

"We'll come back later," Demyx says, and he and Zexion stand. The blonde pauses and puts a hand on the woman's shoulder; he then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slim business card with a name and a number on it, as well as a pen. As he scribbles something onto the back, he talks.

"This is where you can find us, the hotel and address. You already have Zexion's number, so when you think he's ready…but if not, this card is for a psychologist. It's a bit of a commute, but the train station would take you right into the city, and it's very close. It's kind of hard to do it, but he needs help, and so do you. Nobody can do this sort of thing on their own."

She thanks him. They leave.

The ride back is without words. Zexion drives their rent-a-car back in silence, and they walk through the lobby of the hotel, up the elevator to their floor and into their room. Once they're inside, Zexion sits down on the bed and notices that the whites of Demyx's eyes are burning red. His insides ache and tremble at the very sight.

"Demyx," he murmurs, and the blonde shakes his head, wordlessly heading over to him. He sits beside Zexion and puts his hand over his, while his other hand snakes up to hold Zexion's chin, turning it so that their lips almost match. His breath hitches at the feeling, and he looks into his eyes; he sees a churning desperation, a need, and feels it reflected in his own as heat pools in his stomach.

"Please," he whispers, and his voice is low and sweet. "Please."

He wants to ask why he's asking like this, why now, if he's just being used and if he'll forget all about it tomorrow, but he doesn't have time. Demyx's lips ascend to his and everything after that is soft and warm. It fills the cold, jagged crevice that the little stranger from camp put in their consciences.

He's not what Zexion might have expected. He's not gentle and smooth like his skills of playing sitar may hint at; he bites and arches and begs, needing more, and the man is more than happy to comply, exploring the other's body by grabbing and kissing and pushing experimentally until he finds what Demyx likes. Surprisingly, he finds, it isn't difficult to figure out, and it makes stars burst in the corners of his vision.

When it's over, and Zexion collapses, Demyx mewls and twists so that he's facing Zexion. His hair is disheveled but his smile is small, and so real that it makes a knot form in Zexion's throat. It's lucky the blonde isn't asking questions, because his voice would seem so small.

They spend the remainder of their day laying together and watching the traces of twilight singe the pale-white bedding orange and red.

**

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: O :

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Breakfast is served all morning for the hung-over graduates, and they filter in and out of the kitchen at varying times and moments. There's a butler named Auron who helps out, though his appearance hints more towards mercenary than babysitter. Wakka and the others all cringe when he leers at them, eyeing his scruffy stubble and cheerless disposition; only Tidus and Rikku, another girl from their class, seem unfazed by his presence.

Sora and Riku eat in a pleasant sort of silence, both smiling a little too brightly, and faces a bit too flushed for having been awake such short a time. Kairi and Namine listen in anticipation, but surprisingly, neither boy makes a move on each other, which serves to disappoint them.

They pack their things and leave, thanking the twins on their way out and being completely cordial and regular.

They both hop into Riku's car (Sora doesn't actually have one; he's always just given Riku gas money and they've called it even) and Riku smiles and turns the volume of the radio on medium. He does this when there is the possibility of a 'big talk' coming on, Sora knows, and he beams.

Truth to be told, his throat is so tight with anticipation that he's sure even a droplet of water couldn't get by. His heart is beating so loud he thinks Riku will have to comment on what that thumping is; he feels his face heat so much that he thinks surely Riku'll feel it even from there, and all the while butterflies flip to and fro within his stomach.

"Sora--"

"Yes!" Sora squeaks, perhaps with a little too much vigor, as his voice has hitched up an octave and he coughs to try and hide the over-anticipated reply. Riku raises a slim eyebrow in amusement.

'_I want him,' _Sora remembers him saying suddenly, making his face flush even more. _'More than I've ever wanted anyone before…'_

"…Your house," Riku says slowly, amusement sparking in his eyes. "We're there."

Sora notices then that they're parked in front of his humble abode, and shame clips his wings of delight. Riku chuckles at him as he gathers his things, mumbling incoherently. He opens the door and throws himself out, grinning at Riku as he does so.

"Wait," Riku murmurs, just as Sora's about to slam the door with a cheery goodbye, and Sora feels his heart lurch forward in his chest. His breath has suddenly stopped and his mouth is suddenly so dry, and he hears a ringing in his ears and feels his body shake.

"Yea?" he whispers.

"…Can I see you later? There's something…I want to talk to you about."

"Does it have to wait?" the brunette almost whines, smiling cheerily despite himself, and Riku looks a bit taken aback. Flustered, he looks away, his tongue coming out to skim over his lower lip.

"W-Well, sort of. It's kind of important."

"Tell me now," Sora murmurs before he can stop himself, and when Riku looks up his eyes are dark with concentration, but surprised.

"I…just…I can't right this second," he says breathlessly, looking out the front window dismally. "Tonight, I promise. Come to my house around eight."

"…Kay," Sora beams, his eyes lighting up and smiling bigger than he has in days. Riku's face softens at the sight and his heart beats extra hard, and to keep himself from doing something stupid he grabs the steering wheel, nodding.

"See you then."

Sora shuts the door and watches as Riku drives off down the road; he only lives down the development, within walking distance, and Sora grins like a giddy schoolgirl as he skips into the house.

"Mom, I'm home!" he calls out. "Roxas, you here yet? I--mom?"

Aoi turns from her spot on the couch to her son with surprised eyes, and after a moment offers a brilliant smile. He watches her, confused. Something's off; her face is puffy and her hair is pulled back into a tight bun with a few little pieces hanging down miserably. Despite this, though, he feels a cold shiver run down his spine. She looks…haunted.

"I've got a cold," she explains feebly, rubbing her red, swollen eyes. "I'm sorry I look like this honey."

"Oh…" he hesitates, glancing over the couch. Then he smiles.

"I'll make you some soup," he decides aloud, and before she can protest he heads to the kitchen. Chicken noodle is her favorite, so he whips some up and grabs some crackers, putting them on a little tray with his own bowl and some hot tea. He puts it in front of her and turns on the television, grabs a blanket, and offers her half of it.

She looks at him, exhausted, and her eyes well up. She grabs some tissues before he can notice and hides it by pretending to blow her nose, and once it's been disposed of she allows her thin boy to curl up against her, beneath the cozy blanket.

"They say the easiest way to get rid of a cold is to give it to someone you love," he says, smiling gently as he rests his head against her shoulder. "But I wonder if it's the same if the cold comes in July?"

She purses her lips and sniffles, rolling her eyes. "I've outdone myself raising you, you know. Too clever for your own good."

He just beams and picks up his bowl of soup, slurping in satisfaction; he hopes she doesn't notice that he burns his tongue.

**

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: O :

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"C'mon," Aerith whimpers, leaning over the bar with a pout on her face. The top button of her pretty pink dress is unbuttoned, giving her usual appearance a little sexier of a look, which is necessary given their circumstance. "Surely, you have to know _something _about them…these cute little tattoos, sometimes here," she points to her wrist, "or here," she points to her clavicle, "or here…" she trails a hand down to her breasts, fingers over one.

The bartender seems about to burst, his face red and his eyes on her cleavage, but he clears his throat in an attempt to act cool, leaning over and putting his hands over hers. Cloud, who sits in the corner of the bar pretending to read a newspaper, clenches his fists, prepared to jump up at the slightest sign of struggle on the brunette's part.

"Well, if you put it like that, I'm starting to remember some girl around here…but I don't know, it's kind of fuzzy…"

Aerith sighs and throws her dignity away, and lets his hand slip inside her shirt a moment. He gropes with a soft, guttural noise, and she flinches at the touch. It's nighttime and the bar is packed, but there are other bartenders and they don't notice this one's absence.

"…Blonde, with blue eyes. Feisty as hell, always threatening people with these little knives," he groans. "How about some sugar, and I'll tell you everything you need to know about her."

"First tell me if you know where she lives, or where she's from. Anything about her…then once you've told me we can go in the back and…discuss…"

He grins and retrieves his hand in anticipation, taking off his apron and slinging it over the counter.

"She was in here with a short blonde girl in a white dress--she had to have been underage, the girl. Probably a dyke, I'd guess. She always comes at around eleven, if you were curious to meet her. Now, why don't we just--"

"Thank you!" Aerith beams, and leaves him with a shocked face and a hard-on. She skips right up to Cloud and they exit without further involvement, ignoring the angered cries from the barkeep inside.

"Larxene," she explains with a heavy sigh. "I doubt we'll get much from her."

"She's one of the traitors. She'll give us what we need."

They found themselves a bench about a block away from the bar, and sat down. Cloud still had his newspaper and he put it in front of the two of them, letting her lean against him discreetly.

"So now we wait?"

He nods.

**

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: O :

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Axel finds Roxas on the beach, not quite by accident but not quite intentionally either. He doesn't feel guilty for anything; it's something he's never had to deal with before, and now, having dealt with the very worst kind, he desires nothing but escape.

He'd seem them in the window; Roxas' house has a large kitchen right by the front window, and he saw one of the older members and one younger than himself. He practically fed Roxas to the lions, let him stay and let them hurt him, bringing in him things he'd tried with all of his might to forget.

It isn't raining, but it's not a clear night. Somewhere in between storm-ridden and beautiful. And Roxas sits on the beach, in the midst of constructing a little village of sand castles. First instinct tells Axel to go away, but upon thinking better of it, he decides not to.

"I went to your place first," the boy says suddenly, and his voice is stable. "But you weren't there. I figured you'd show up, but you didn't. So I came here instead."

"Sorry," Axel murmurs. There isn't anything else he can think to say. Roxas shrugs.

"It's cool. Where've you been?"

'_Lamenting about how much of an ass I am, leaving you there with the detective and the other little victim, when I knew fully well how hurt you'd be, but you have to understand that my life is on the line and I've been hiding for too long to just turn myself in, I could be killed, I could be thrown in jail, and I don't want that.'_

Of course, these are the thoughts in Axel's subconscious, and he can't make out what he's thinking beneath his own stubbornness and shame, so instead he just says:

"Out."

Roxas nods, but his shoulders are rigid and as he works he moves in jerky, rough motions. Axel isn't used to seeing this.

"Out. Right. Do me a favor…can you be honest with me? You know, just this once."

The bitterness in his voice is evident. Axel grits his teeth and steps forward. He takes a seat in front of Roxas, and the little sand village sits between them. Unbeknownst to Roxas, Axel's heart staggers when he sees the blonde; his eyes are hard and heavy, and filled with _so much hurt_, and he knows nothing he ever does in his life will atone.

"You left so suddenly…just took off in your car like you were running away."

"…I'm always running," Axel answers, looking at the village. It's constructed with a single plastic cup, and all the buildings are exactly the same. He picks up some pebbles and starts setting them around one of the structures, creating a perimeter. "I'm good at it."

"Ditto," Roxas retorts. "But I wouldn't have left you."

"Don't," Axel snaps, glaring at the boy, who glares right back, but it has a different effect; Axel's is saturated in guilt and frustration, while Roxas looks like he's about to crumble, like a dry sandcastle. "You don't have a clue as to what I'm risking, being here, being anywhere near here. Especially being around you, with Zexion on your case and all."

"You knew," he says then, and his eyes fall away, and he looks like he's been stabbed by the very prospect. It cuts Axel into a million pieces, and he clenches his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. "How did you know Zexion?"

"We're old friends," Axel begins, the lie feeling oddly bitter in his mouth. Roxas glances up at him and for a moment Axel feels a flicker of urgency. Roxas can't know about his involvement; the blonde would never forgive him, so the lie is worth risking. Still, though, he seems to sense that something's off in Axel's tone.

"It seems too coincidental that you'd know him, and he knows about…that. Is that why you found me? Just to hand me over to him? You didn't have to waste your time like this," he scowls, coming to his own conclusion, and Axel snorts.

"Please. This is bigger than that, and we both know it."

"Then why did you come find me?" he presses, glancing up while his hands work faster in the sand. "Why now? Why did you find me now?"

"I didn't mean to," he admits, honestly. "I told you, I wander, and my particular wanderings happened to take me here. And I saw you, and I just…" he trails off, shrugging. The sand is cold in his fingertips. Roxas pauses, musing over the answer, before he nods, and falls silent. For a moment Axel believes all is well, but when he peers up again he sees that the boy looks just as bothered as before. He leans back expectantly.

"What now?"

"…You _did _know. And you did it anyway. I can't believe you did that. You _abandoned _me."

"Shut up," Axel hisses. "Don't pull that shit on me. That's low for even you. I hate it when people expect things from me. I saved your ass once, remember? You--"

"I get it," he mutters back, his face slack and lacking its usual fire and, in lieu of it, there is disappointment. This scares Axel more than anything; he'd prefer the angry Roxas to this pathetic look.

"Axel…"

His face twists, eyes red, and he raises it quickly to blink back whatever emotions he's about to feel. Axel watches, pebbles forgotten. The blonde lets out a little laugh, and it sounds a little better than Axel might've anticipated.

"Sorry. I'm selfish, I guess. It was hard to talk to him, and I didn't even get to--that. I just stopped. I wished you were there," he admits, even quieter, and his face turns a little pink despite the sadness there; a look that breaks hearts and willpowers alike. Axel can't take it; he reaches over and grabs Roxas by the shoulders, pulling him down so that he lands on his back in the sand. He flinches from the sudden contact and Axel holds him there by his shoulders, his face twisted in seething fury.

"You are a moron," he hisses. "A dumb, dumb kid. Just some stupid boy."

Roxas looks more than taken aback; worry etches in his brow, but Axel continues, shaking him.

"I'm sick and tired of you and your goddamn _heart. _Nobody has a heart that can handle this shit all by itself--you aren't selfish for wanting me there, you're _human! _So stop it with your fucking apologies before I vomit."

He gets off of him and kicks the sandcastles into oblivion, watching in satisfaction as the particles float away. Roxas doesn't get up; he watches somewhere betwixt amusement and misery as Axel acts out, watches as he stops and puts a hand over his mouth, wiping down with a grimace on his face. His green eyes flicker to Roxas, and then back again when he sees the boy is staring at him.

"What?"

"You're okay with that?" he murmurs. Axel snorts with dry laughter.

"Gee, I guess I'll just have to settle," he rolls his eyes in sarcasm. "C'mon. Don't be stupid. I like that you need me."

"I don't _need _you. I just _want _you."

The words escape before he can stop them, and once they do, he blushes bright pink, and Axel tries not to smirk but he can't stop himself; his laughter comes out in a few hollow barks, but Roxas shrugs all the same.

"What a shitty day," the blonde murmurs, staring up at the sky. Axel wishes he knew what he was thinking; if it would be appropriate to kiss the sorrow out of the blonde, if it would be okay if he held his hand or hugged him or just held him for a little while…when he sits, Roxas glances at him idly. Slowly, carefully, he lets his hand slide through the sand, and the redhead takes it. It's warm and soft and it makes Roxas smile, just barely-there, shrouded beneath the day's turmoil.

Roxas peers up at Axel. He's wearing a black wife beater, and for the first time, he sees that his wrists are free from the usual bands of leather there, or the gloves, and he snorts.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen this bit of skin before."

Axel looks down curiously, but when Roxas tries to touch the skin there he retracts his hand, huffing, but the blonde sees the off look that quickly passes over his face. Curiously, he sits up, ignoring the sand on his back and in his hair. Axel laughs goes to wipe it away, and Roxas grabs his hand.

"What's the matter, you cut yourself or something?"

Axel smirks and grabs his hair in retaliation, _--pulling his neck up with one hand while the other pushes him closer into the twelve-year-old's lap, doing just as Saix instructs; his smile is cruel and his eyes are like needles and "Roxas?"--_ somehow he's ended up a foot away from the redhead, who looks rather concerned. He repeats his name, reaching his other hand out.

Roxas grinds his teeth, listens to the sound, and locks that memory up tight again, pushing it out of sight and out of mind. The nausea eats at him, like someone is squeezing his belly and begging to expel everything he's eaten, but he refuses to let it happen. He waits until it stops rattling, until there's nothing but the sound of the waves and the feel of cold moonlight, chilling sand, and Axel's warm self.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Spaced."

"Yea," Axel nods, looking slightly uncomfortable, as if he realized what had just happened. "Sure."

They just sit there for a second, the blonde catching his breath and Axel watching him warily, until Roxas finally bites his lip and scoots forward so that he's sitting side by side with him. He leans forward and lets his forehead rest on Axel's shoulder, against his heart. Axel sighs and puts his arms around him, and raises his hands to touch his face. His thumbs stroke against his cheeks for a second until Roxas pulls back and goes in for a kiss.

Everything else in the redhead's world slips away.

It's soft and gentle, and Axel makes a contented noise as he pushes into it. One hand stays up on his cheek while the other slides down his neck, down to his hand. He grasps it gently, letting his lips move against Roxas without rush or urgency. Even still, though, he feels Roxas' lips go completely slack, and when he pulls away, everything seems to happen in slow motion.

Apparently, Roxas saw it from the corner of his eyes, and now that Axel breaks the kiss he turns to see it completely, shaking hands reaching up to grasp his arm. A thick, dark 'VIII' that taints about an inch of his skin, the sign of the Organization--a tattoo that Roxas has seen several times on the people who ruined his life.

**

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**

: O :

* * *

"I hate this stupid bar," a blonde woman, probably in her mid-twenties, hisses in annoyance as she makes her way towards her aforementioned point of destination. She is tall, with short blonde hair styled oddly, and electric blue eyes that hint at fury. She wears a long black cloak, and every time someone walks by she prepares to lift the cloak and conceal her identity. Beside her, Namine wears a purple dress and sandals, and when she looks up her smile is shy.

"I know," she says. "But you said yourself, it's the only place where we can go that no one either of us knows goes to. Right?"

"I don't see why we have to go out," Larxene grins, and there's something very seductive about the way she says it. Namine flushes and looks away.

"But I'm hungry," she murmurs in excuse, and watches as a pretty young woman approaches. A surge of fear waves over her--Larxene was her history teacher in high school, and even though she's graduated, if anyone were to figure out what they were…

"Excuse me," Aerith smiles brightly, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Larxene?"

"Depends. Who the fuck's asking?" she hisses, stepping in front of Namine, trying to block her from sight. Cloud steps behind Aerith, and once he does, Namine seems to at last recognize the pair. A groan escapes her lips and she runs a hand over her face.

"Horse shit."

**

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**

: End 11 :

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	12. Fictitious Verity

S: AAAH!!! I'm sorry this took such awhile. I'm also sorry that it doesn't feature any CLEON or ZEMYX, which I sorely miss in this chapter because we enjoy writing them so! But alas, it is too long; wait until next chapter, bitches!

H: This chapter is a whole lot of information. We apologize for the inconvenience!

_And now for our reviewers:_

EXTREME KISSES FOR Siddeeqahfan, shinimoeru, Mary the Contrary, CNMY (S: this one's for you, babeh! Though the steaminess in this chapter is less on SoRi and more on another couple, because Honey likes to tease you and lure you with carrots so that you keep reading! But don't you worry, Honey promises you a nice, hot, burning SoRi scene coming up soon! H: *bluuuuuush*) xxBeautifulxxNightmarexx, youngnozomi, With a side of stereotype (S: lolol Namine's a bad girl, no?) DemonBrownie, ChibiNeko616 (S: You're too kind!! H: *bluuuuuuuuuuuuush*), The Infamous Me, and The Heartbreaker!!!!

You all have earned yourself a place in our twinsie hearts, evermore. 3

P.S. WE'RE SO CLOSE TO BREAKING 100 REVIEWS THAT I CAN TASTE IT!!!! Do it and I'll get to watch Honey go into cardiac arrest and blush until he's permanently tomato-colored, my favorite kind of Honey-reaction. :3

Kisses,

-M.w.H.

-Soupie

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**Wildfire**

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:: |Chapter Twelve| ::

:: |Fictitious Verity| ::

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**7****:48.**

Sora groans in agitation.

It seems to him that eight-o-clock will never arrive. He doesn't want to seem overenthusiastic about appearing at Riku's house, which he is currently perched outside of, hiding across the street like the fraidy-cat he is. But it seems like two hours ago he looked down and saw 7:45, and each second is beginning to wear on him.

He checks his appearance quickly from behind the tree he's stooped beneath; a clean, ironed shirt and shorts with flipflops. It's not perfect, but it's just casual enough to be inconspicuous, and just nice enough to be for a night like this. He reaches up and makes sure his hair is spiked in it's usual way, a defining characteristic of his appearance.

"I look good," he tells himself, and his voice wavers from excitement. "He'll like me no matter what I wear, but just to be sure, I know look good."

He shakes his hands and looks across the street. Riku's house is giant and wonderful, and he waits with baited breath for the moment he'll approach the door and finally hear what he's wanted to hear for ages.

His heart throbs with excitement at the very thought. He isn't sure how he missed the signs, how it's humanly possible for a single person to feel such saccharine an ache. Young love is a wonderful thing, he thinks, and tries to imagine Riku telling him his feelings, imagines them holding hands, holding each other, doing…things. Eagerly, he glances down at his watch, positive that time has to have passed--

7:49.

He could faint; instead he focuses on the sound of a door slamming.

Riku's voice catches his attention and he peeks over the pine branches to see the tall figure following his mother out of the house. She looks calm and collected, but the trained soul can detect the agitation she feels. It's in her eyes, her elbows, the jerky steps she takes as she heads out to her car. She snaps her face back to Riku and slaps him so hard across the face that Sora can practically feel it from where he sits. He can't make out exactly what she says, but he knows she's furious; she never so much as raises her tone, and he hears it, thin and icy like a snake's deadly hissing.

And whatever she says is clearly effecting Riku, because his face is so pained that Sora's heart lurches. She makes some wild gesticulation and steps into the vehicle, slamming the door. He steps forward, helpless, and rests the heels of his hands on the car. Sora hears Riku's voice, clear as crystal.

"Mom, don't be like this--stop it, MOM!" he bangs on the car, hurt and angry, but she pulls out of the driveway and drives away without even a screech. He watches her go and lets out a string of curses, unhindered and biting with rage. Sora hesitates, feeling that perhaps he should give him some time to cool off, but then he notices.

He sees how Riku's hair is still drying from a shower, how he's wearing his brand new bright blue button-up, leaving the buttons open with a clean, ironed shirt beneath. As he watches Riku anxiously weave his fingers through his silver hair in aggravation, he decides that Riku's mother won't be home to stick her pretty little button nose into their business, and judging from the silk dress she was wearing, she probably wouldn't be back anytime soon.

'_It's now or never,' _he tells himself, and glances down at his traitorous watch, which sports a gleaming '7:58.' Slowly he waits until Riku's back is turned, and then he sneaks around and leaps to the sidewalk before he's become suspicious.

"Hey," he calls out, and Riku spins around at the sound. His face is surprised, and then he smiles gently.

"Hi Sora," he murmurs, and through the stress Sora hears the adoration in the sound of his name, and it makes him shiver pleasantly. He leads Riku back into the house; since it's still mid-July the orange of the sun is just barely over the treetops, and it spreads through the glass sliding back doors onto the cool granite of the kitchen.

"…So," Sora starts off, but his heart is open, ready, and willing for whatever Riku has to say to him. The silver-haired man hesitates, biting his lip, and then Sora notices an opened envelope on the table. He glances over it quickly and then looks at Riku. He looks rather uncomfortable, suddenly, and he pulls the sheet out of view.

"…I'm not letting this ruin what I wanted to tell you," he says, and pushes the paper onto the granite behind him, and though Sora's curiosity burns, moreso does his desire to hear Riku speak to him.

"Okay, I'm listening," he says, and sits down in the chair. And it honestly couldn't be less romantic: the lights are off and it's dark in the room, the only illumination being the setting sun, in the clean, white pallet that serves as Riku's entire home, from the grayish granite to the white loveseats and walls and checkered tiled floors. The clock is just a little too loud and the room a little too big, but it doesn't matter because the words echo so sweetly, like a song but better--

'_I'm in love with you.'_

--At least, they would have, if words needed to be spoken.

No one can really say who moves first. Maybe it's Sora, so impatient and scared and in love that he can't handle the desperation he feels, or maybe it's Riku, so nervous and beautiful and in love and unable to take the desperate look in Sora's pretty eyes. Maybe they move at the same time, like two magnets just waiting to collide, two stars bursting in unison--whatever the case may be their lips are suddenly mash together, and they're _complete, _as if they've sealed the gap of awkward between them since the last kiss with superfluous emotion.

Sora makes a noise in the back of his throat in approval, and this time, just to make sure, he reaches a hand around and holds Riku to him, unwilling to let go and let the moment end. His back pushes into the granite and he arches into Riku, who grips him like he's his only lifeline. His huge hands grip his side and his hair, while his own twine in his hair and loop around his neck, pulling him closer. He's soft and warm and too much to take, and _god, _"R-Riku," he mewls, just like he's always wanted to.

Riku covers his mouth again with his, groaning as heat soars beneath his skin, demanding to be let out. Sora purrs and moves against him JUST so, driving him wildwith need and he knows, he's always known, and it's the most beautiful feeling; he pushes Sora up onto the granite and leaps up, straddling him on the peninsula and kissing him into the countertop, eliciting the sweetest little sounds from the brunette.

His tongue laps at Sora's, and then Sora sucks, and Riku _keens, _thanking everything he's not standing because his knees would've buckled. It's going too fast but he doesn't care, he lets his weight settle over Sora's for a moment, covering him completely. Sora meanwhile reaches his fingers up, sliding beneath the hem of Riku's shirt, against the soft, soft skin covering his muscular self and enjoying the way Riku quivers from the sensation.

They pull away and smile at each other for a second, eyes glistening, and Sora has never loved another moment more than this one. Panting, Riku lets his forehead rest against Sora's for a moment, and then he slides off of the countertop and onto the floor. He holds out his hand and Sora takes it, letting Riku pull him against him, holding him so that Sora's straddling his hips and Riku's carrying him off, kissing him as he blindly makes his way towards his bedroom, murmuring a particular set of three little words as he does so, over and over, so that there will never be a moment of doubt again.

**

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**

: O :

* * *

"We don't know anything."

The denial isn't fooling anyone, and Larxene knows it, but it doesn't stop her from trying. She has a hand wrapped tightly around Namine's wrist and her face twists into an angry scowl. They've been followed by the persistent twosome all the way to the park, despite the many threats spewing from the pissed off woman.

Once they've climbed the hill, though, and sit at the top, Larxene turns and reaches into her pocket. Namine's eyes widen and she grabs her arm; the blonde turns to her in fury.

"Nam--"

"If we help them," she whispers, but Cloud and Aerith hear it loud and clear. "We'll be okay."

"You don't know how wrong you are," Larxene hisses, and Namine shakes her head, smiling gently.

"We'll be okay," she insists. Larxene glances between the small girl and Sephiroth's favorite two lackey's before she lets a growl erupt from her throat. Seething, she pulls herself away from Namine's grasp and pushes her away.

"Go home," she barks the order. Namine looks only a little offended in her hesitation, but nods, and starts on her journey back. Once she's completely out of sight the woman turns back to Aerith and Cloud, snarling.

"You've got a lot of fucking nerve," she snaps. She looks fierce in the light of the full moon; it shines on her skin like stardust and her eyes glitter dangerously, like a wild animal about to pounce. There's something a little bit too malicious in her gaze, though, and Aerith seems to sense it before Cloud does. "So before I even say anything, I want to know what a big guy like Sephiroth is doing fucking around with the remains of some rebellious group from years ago?"

"The Organization tried to destroy him," Aerith answers calmly. "It's all for revenge."

Larxene snorts.

"Yea, right. That'd make sense--if the Organization had ever been anything but loyal to Sephiroth."

The silence that follows is brief but tangible. Aerith and Cloud glance at each other, meeting confusion in the middle, before turning back slowly to the blonde before them.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, if that dumb guy is just going to be pulling your legs, then I don't think I should be the one to reveal the dirty, nasty truth about your little general. C'mon, no pretenses, the war's over!" she smirks, and it's completely devilish to her features. Aerith bites her lip and they wait for her to continue. After a moment, Larxene's features soften slightly, her brow furrowing.

"…You really don't know?" she says, sounding amused and shocked at once. The two are silent. She sighs heavily, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. I'll tell you everything under the condition that you leave me the fuck alone after this, and if you rat me out I'll find you and make you BEG for death. And Namine was never with me, for the record," she adds venomously. Aerith nods, and Larxene sucks in a deep breath.

"Sephiroth is an underground guy--technically he was supposed to be a neutral party between the King's army and the Organization. While he trained the King's soldiers and transformed them from lumps of whiny peasants into the finest battalions you've ever seen, he was also feeding us firearms. Never quite got his hands dirty during that particular war, but I've heard rumors about others.

"Anyway, so Superior has no qualms about the backstabbing little prick--until he hears from Xa…from number three," she amends quickly, raising an eyebrow, "That Sephiroth's ratted out the location of H.Q., which at the time was in the old castle. So Superior makes a huge fuss and gets everyone out. The only one not accounted for was number six. He disappeared, so Superior, not wanting to give anyone any ideas about a revolt or leaving or some shit like that, told us that he'd killed him. Whether or not this is true," she shrugs, "Is beyond me.

"So three of the members start getting very, very concerned for their own asses--numbers eight, eleven, and myself, number twelve. Superior didn't realize that we'd figured it out, and six never came back, so everyone else just assumed the Superior was telling the truth.

"Now, as you two probably know better than anyone else, Sephiroth is a very dangerous individual. The three started noticing that the Organization was getting a little out of hand, abusing their power, fucking everything up big-time. They ran away like scared little birds, and Superior assumed they were in cahoots with six and told the whole Organization that if they were spotted, they should shoot to kill. It was the end of their respective involvements in the rebellion itself--though I'm pretty sure number eight did some serious damage all on his own, but I can't be positive about that."

She pauses, licking her lips and glaring at them.

"Remember, I'm only telling you this because you're not going to rat me out. And I don't trust you one bit, but I figure if this all goes to hell, you'll vouch for me in court or something."

Aerith nods. Cloud remains stoic and silent, staring intently at the blonde.

"Good. So anyway, word on the grapevine is that six, who was just laying low, heard about seven and four doing some pretty fucked up shit--"

"Which was?"

"Kiddy porn," she snaps, her eyes flaring in disgust. "I don't know the exact details, if they were just fucking perverts or if they were just trying to make a happy dollar or to--maybe it was Superior, hell," she barks a bitter laugh, arms folding across her chest. "Whatever the reason, and from what I've managed to piece together, six squeals to some low-key guys from the King's department, but when they tried to go make their arrests…"

She brought a finger to her throat and sliced across, grinning.

"Seven and four were clearly prepared," Cloud nods. "The massacre."

"One huge fucking mess. Blood on the bailey, the destruction of innocents in the name of hatred, bounties on Superior's head, an influx in volunteer soldiers for the King's army. The rest is history--Superior gets sloppy, the other groups of revolutionaries start disappearing, and the Organization implodes upon itself. The King gains control and settles the chaos, renames the city, tries cleaning it up…still, I'm surprised Superior's been able to stay under the radar for this long."

"You know where he is now?"

"Like I'd know," she snorts, rolling her eyes. "His bounty's the largest out of anyone's. The King says he wants Superior alive--I mean, I guess he wants us all alive just so he can do the whole judicial thing in the proper order, but Superior's is specified that the bounty'll be cut in half if he's brought in dead."

"Odd," Cloud says. "Your whole story almost makes sense."

"Almost?" Larxene laughs. "It makes perfect sense! Every puzzle piece matches up completely."

"You could be lying," Aerith says, smiling. "To save yourself."

"I don't need to be saved," Larxene hesitates, her feral smirk disappearing for the briefest of moments. "I'm just planting seeds so that when the evidence matches up, you won't hurt me."

"But why would Sephiroth lie?"

"Who knows? Maybe he and the King have some kind of arrangement. I wouldn't put it past him, what with him being the savior of the city, gold-medalist General that he's rumored to be nowadays."

"Where is everyone else now?" Aerith asks, curling her fingers around themselves. Larxene makes a strange face, and hesitates.

"Well, I've heard that number twelve has fled the country--or better off, is dead," she amends quickly, and Aerith smiles and nods.

"Tragic."

"Yes. Let's think…I don't know where Superior is. Hiding, undoubtedly. Seven and four are in custody at the Radiant Garden--they've been there about a month, while investigators are trying to find this one brat involved in the kiddie-porn so that he can testify." She pauses and smirks at the moonlight. "Funny--they call him thirteen, even though he wasn't part of the rebellion--those perverts liked him that much. Anyway. From them they're hoping to find the rest of the Organization. But as far as my knowledge goes on the others…two and three you'll probably find together, five actually owns an orphanage or an animal home or some shit like that somewhere near Port Royal. Six--who knows.

"Now, eight is a tricky subject," she hums, her teeth spreading pearly and wide. "He and the other two who fled stayed together awhile, but one day he just up and disappeared, but there are signs he's still alive. He's always been a slippery little bastard. If you find him, don't trust a word he says, because he's a fucking liar," she snarls the last part, clearly a little bitter. "Again, heresay is that he's out and about. If you ask me, he's probably going to do something idiotic soon to save his ass or go out with a bang.

"Nine was a fucking _child. _He couldn't've been thirteen when they found him, and they hazed him something fierce. Ten you'll find anywhere where there's a casino--he loves to gamble."

She fell silent after this admission, and Cloud raised an eyebrow.

"You forgot number eleven."

"Ah--right," she nods, smirking viciously as her eyes flicker to Aerith. "You should ask your little flower girl. I bet she could figure it out rather easily."

With that, Larxene ignores the two confused faces before her and starts walking, hands shoved deep into her pockets. Aerith turns her head and watches her leave, and Cloud waits until she's far enough away that she can't be heard that he whispers, "Do you believe her?"

"Huh?"

"About Sephiroth."

"…I don't know," she murmurs thoughtfully. "It doesn't make sense that he'd lie to us about something as trivial as that."

"Unless he was hiding something," Cloud says, and Aerith snaps her gaze up to his. They stare at each other for a moment before Cloud hesitates, glancing away.

"…I'm done with him and his games. I want nothing more to do with them. We won't be tied to him anymore."

"He's too powerful," she whispers urgently, grasping his hands in hers. "You'll be free after this is all over and done with. Just wait it out until then."

"You won't be," he says. "You won't ever be. He owns you…and me, too. No matter what we think he'll never let us be. Unless we change the odds in our favor."

Aerith pauses and listens to the sound of a train in the distance. She glances over the hill and watches it's smoke rising slowly into the clear, beautiful sky. Her eyes close slowly and she waits, listening to the silence and feeling the cool summer breeze as it gently caresses her face. At length, she opens her eyes and smiles so beautifully that Cloud's breath is caught in his throat.

"Okay," she says. "But only because I know the real reason is your concern for your lover."

If the brunette didn't know any better (and of course she does, having known her blonde companion for a great deal of time), she'd swear that despite their mutinous intent and the slim chances that they'll be successful, Cloud's lips turn up in the ghost of a smile and his face turns slightly pink beneath the brilliant night.

**

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**

: O :

* * *

The sun is merciless and brilliant all at once on the shores just a mile or so away from Destiny Islands, the small masses of land standing out, greenery pouring over the top of the tree-houses, all constructed by children and father's in their spare time. Axel watches absently as some teens--Selphie, he recalls, Tidus, Wakka--all crawl into a boat and start rowing away, squealing with delight at the possibilities of the day before them.

But Axel doesn't move.

He hasn't, since that moment, when Roxas' face, which he has grown so accustomed to seeing as happy or annoyed, twists into a face of horror and disappointment and _agony_ so strong he felt his own heart throb. He watched as Roxas' eyes filled with tears but he raised his head and blinked them away, just like always. He watched him tear himself from his own grasp (and he wanted so badly, SO badly to grab him again and explain everything, but he'd never seen such sadness and hatred in such little eyes.)

"You're one of them," he had muttered, and his voice shook and cracked. "You were there that night because you were one of them…"

"No, Roxas, it's not what you--"

"I'm so fucking done," he had hissed. "Don't ever speak to me again, you sick, sick fuck."

And then the blonde turned around and ran away, and Axel felt himself so wounded by the accusation that he couldn't bring himself to move. He watched the sun rise, watched the sky-rats as they cawed and swooped down for shellfish that came up onto shore, and as Roxas' friends rowed away, laughing carefree on a little wooden boat.

Half of him screamed to go to Roxas and explain; the smarter half told him to wait it out, give him some time, and then be rational.

Yet Axel is not rational; he is anything but, if truth be told. He is rash and quick and never thinks things through one-hundred percent before he does them, which often gets him into great heaping dollops of trouble.

Finally, though, he stands slowly. His muscles protest, having been still for so long, but he turns and heads back to his pseudo-home with the hopes that he'll have the patience to wait long enough so that Roxas will forgive him. He sighs and bites back the burn in his stomach, the impossible anger and frustration that he feels when he can't explain himself.

He doesn't have to.

Roxas is waiting in his bedroom, sitting on his bed like a birthday present. His face is wet and his eyes are red but, _damn, _do they burn a hole right into Axel's heart. He doesn't think; he moves forward just as Roxas opens his arms to him and he falls on top of the blonde, sighing in relief as he feels himself become whole again. Roxas trembles beneath him, shaking his head and breathing slowly.

"Sorry," he sniffles, but his voice is light and contented, even and mellow, just the way Axel needs to hear. "But even if you are a part of that group…It doesn't matter if you were, because you're…you're--I can't…to me, you're like…I'm trying to say that I--"

"Yea," Axel laughs breathily, his face twisting into the most honest smile he's ever managed as his entire body feels lighter than he's ever felt. "Me too."

He runs his nose against Roxas' chin, pulling him up on the bed so that they're lying side by side. Roxas is flushed from the admission and he bites his lip; the intensity of Axel's eyes scare him a bit, so he turns away, and the man chuckles as he wraps his arms around the kid, laying his weight over him and nuzzling the soft spot of skin just below his ear, kissing it as he whispers again and again, "Me too."

Roxas lets out a shaky breath, his face reddening as something molten burns in his lower abdomen. He whimpers from the feeling, which is too much for him to concentrate on; his belly is full of butterflies and he's dizzy, intoxicated, _loved, _happy, for the first time in his life that he can recall. Axel supports himself on his forearms and looks down at Roxas, and the blonde lets himself smile, _really _smile, and a strangled, needy noise elicits from Axel's throat as he descends his lips onto his.

They are pliant immediately, Roxas tilting his face up towards Axel as his eyes slip shut and his arms wrap themselves loosely around his shoulders, fingers inching up and into that mane of red spikes. His nails breech a certain point and Axel groans, dipping his position and tasting Roxas' sweetness in his own mouth. His fingers grip at his face holding him close until--

Roxas' eyes shoot open and his face flushes, and he bites back a noise that's about to elicit. Axel pauses, knowing for the briefest moment that he's gone too far, and he curses himself for his lack of control. But the moment passes and Roxas pulls Axel's face to his again, meeting him eye-to-eye and looking determined and--_extremely turned on._

This time, Roxas doesn't stop him. Instead, daringly, he rolls his hips back against Axel's, just as the redhead had done a moment ago for him, and Axel growls as white-hot pleasure spikes up through his whole body.

"Roxas," he moans, kissing him fiercely as his hands slide down and grip his hips, one hand sliding all the way to his knee and hitching it up while the other finds his hip, and Roxas bites back another sound when Axel rolls his hips against his again, their hardened members rubbing through the material of their pants. Axel repeats the action, breathing through his nose as he does so, feeling hotter then and there than during any sex he's ever had in his life.

He doesn't remember how his own shirt is strewn away, but he does remember sliding the white shirt off of the blonde, remembers the way his skin is gold from the sunlight outside as it casts playful morning shadows against the bed. He remembers the feel of Roxas' naval, his hips, those darkened buds against his fingertips, like silky pebbles beneath his fingers. He slinks down and remembers Roxas' reddened face and how his inexperienced body shakes beneath him, jerking in reaction to being touched in places he's never been touched before, but more than anything he remembers the exact spot on his neck and the exact position of his hands (one sliding into the blonde's pants and the other on the small of his back) when Roxas finally let himself make a sound.

"A-Axel," he mewls, his voice saturated in a desperate desire, and Axel nearly loses it then and there.

His teeth gently play with his earlobe as he reaches in and grasps the hardened member therein, squeezing experimentally, and Roxas lets out this sound that's like a hybrid of a hiccup and a moan. His arms reach up and he pulls Axel close, his toes curling. Axel hums and experimentally licks his way down the blonde's neck down to his collarbone, all the while pumping his hand slowly, up and down.

With a sudden ferocity that he didn't know he possessed, Roxas grips Axel's shoulders and nips at his neck, reveling in the redhead's shuddering as he does so. Axel moves his thumb over the blonde's tip and his body bucks on instinct, a sharp cry coming from his mouth. The redhead smirks and feels his own hardened self against the constraints of his jeans, begging to be released.

But suddenly the blonde's sliding himself out of his own pants, easily ridding himself of the cloth, and when he glances up through his thick lashes with a look of hunger and fire, Axel can't help but kiss him again, harder this time than before, grasping him and jerking him off harder.

And he's not sure whether it's him or Roxas that finally gets his own pants off, or how he even thought to grab lube, but he's got two fingers inside of a writhing blonde whose face is twisted in ecstasy, and his cock twitches almost painfully. He uses his other hand to slick it up, rubbing his fingers against this spot inside of Roxas that has him _hot; _his hands grip the sheets and he bites his lip hard, eyes clenched shut, and a single, breathy, needy sound escapes his lips; "_Axel!"_

When he slides into the blonde, he yelps and whimpers a little, and the redhead pauses, his breath rasping in his throat and his entire body aching to push forward a bit more, to fuck Roxas raw, _deeper, harder, faster, _but he contains himself, placing tiny kisses of adoration all over the blonde's face. He notices the troubled crease of his brow and he puts his hand on his chin, forcing him to look up.

He hates the uncertainty that he sees in the blonde's eyes, the pain from a time long ago; he hates so strongly that he burns. But somehow he manages to kiss those plump, bruised lips slowly, somehow ebbs the raw harshness of his desire enough to reassure the blonde.

"It's me," he breaths, and his voice is low and husky. "Just me. Only me."

"Axel," he whimpers, and on no tongue has his name sounded sweeter. He gathers the blonde up in his arms and pulls out, then thrust forward again, gritting his teeth as he keeps himself in control so as not to hurt the boy beneath him. Again and again, he repeats, each time loosing a bit of his patience while the need in him builds up, almost making him crazy.

"_A-Ah!" _Roxas squeals suddenly when Axel unintentionally thrusts a little differently, and the feeling of wholeness that comes over him suddenly makes him groan and move faster, repeating without pause, thrusting into the blonde hard and fast, grunting quietly as he does so.

Roxas whimpers as he grabs Axel, clutching desperately to his shoulders while one leg slings over his waist, forcing his hips to arch up and _oh, _that's GOOD; Axel holds him with one arm while the other grips his bedpost, his entire body combusting to the feel of Roxas' hands and the sound of his name on those peach-pink lips.

"A-Ah! Axel!" he finally cries out, and Axel feels something hot and wet spray against his stomach and he grunts, thrice more, burying himself deep into the boy as white stars burst behind his eyelids, and he comes harder than he's ever before into the blonde.

For a long moment they revel in the feeling of release, until Axel pulls out of the blonde with a soft hiss. He reaches over and grabs a towel that's been carelessly tossed to the floor and he cleans Roxas off first, then himself. He proceeds to toss the towel away and lays down beside Roxas, pulling him close despite the heat of the summer and their lovemaking.

"Ng…" Roxas whimpers, curling up against Axel. He reaches down and takes his hand, pressing a kiss against his wrist, against the black 'VIII' there. Something in Axel's heart shifts oddly, like it's been squeezed too hard, and he crushes the blonde against him. He pulls only the sheets up and over them so that the sunlight won't effect them as much. He waits and listens until Roxas is asleep before falling asleep himself, face nuzzled into sun-kissed blonde hair.

**

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: End 12 :

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	13. Dearly Beloved

**S&H:** OMFG HAPPY AKUROKU DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMFG WE REACHED 100 REVIEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY FUCKING COCK!!!!! We thank you from the bottom of our hearts. And if you were wondering, Honey baby almost had a coronary when he saw.

**S:** This chapter is BULLSHIT. And I am so sorry about that, because I wish it were perfect for you all...especially since you've been waiting for almost FIVE MONTHS OF NO UPDATE!!! -Spanks Honey- That's a bad author! Bad! Author!

**H: **P-Please forgive myself and Soupie. I agree. This chapter is not up to par, and kind of short.

AND NOW FOR OUR THANKYOUREVIEWS!

TheHeartbreaker (S: AkuRoku feeds my soul!!! ANd I tell you what, Honey has a secret crush on Axel, so he always likes to make their moments extra special. Right pookums? H: -dies of mortification-), ChibiNeko616 (H: -Bluuuuush- eeks you're to wonderful!), CNMY (S: I love you!!!! H: -Bluuuuush- ILU2!1!!!1!1!!!), Mary the Contrary, Wilixer (H: that's totally what I was going for; not that smut isn't healthy for the soul, but I'm glad you also thought that too much ruins the mood sometimes!), Orcadia (S: Honestly, I don't even know what's happening with that. [H: she's lying!] But Honey and I love a good plot to twist, so I hope even if it's confusing you think it's good!), Ka-chan (S: It WAS kind of fast, huh? H: -bows- I can't help myself...-lesigh-) lionheart0601, iluvsandsibs, Gina, **ANIMEBECCA #100 OMFG WOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!**, lucy, poisonwasteland, jess, and Native-Symphony!!! YOU KEEP US GOING THROUGH SHITTY CHAPTERS AND GOOD ONES, THROUGH MELTDOWNS AND LAUGHTER, THROUGH LOCKING HONEY IN A ROOM WITH HIS LAPTOP AND DEMANDING A CHAPTER AND WAITING OUTSIDE FOR SAID CHAPTER TO BE FINISHED!!!!

(Read: REVIEW MORE PLEASE! kthanxbai)

Kisses,

-Soupie

-M.w.H.

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Wildfire

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:: |Chapter Thirteen| ::

:: |Dearly Beloved| ::

* * *

**R****oxas **wakes to a throbbing pain and the sound of music.

It's something terribly perfect in Axel's big old mansion, the sour sound of a piano who hasn't seen a tuner in a very long time. He listens for a moment with his eyes closed, letting the sun gently rest on his skin. His mind, for the first time in a very long time, is silent of all but a gentle, lulling calm--no fears and no guilt, no memories except that of the night prior, the smell of Axel's hair and the feel of his hands on his skin.

This feeling is not dirty…it's strange and unusual, but not something he's ashamed of. Quietly, he admires the fullness in his belly, in his heart, everywhere.

After some time of the repetitive melody, he dares to shift, and feels everything below his neck ache slightly with the effort. He wraps himself in the sheets and treads out of the room.

He follows the sound across the hallway, not down the main stairs but instead through a room whose door is cracked open. Roxas discovers an enormous library, and in the corner is Axel, half-naked at a piano and playing obliviously.

"I didn't know you played piano," Roxas says.

Without pausing or changing the fluidity of his playing, Axel turn his head and the blonde sees his grin.

"My mother taught me," he tells him. It occurs to Roxas that he knows nothing about Axel's family, and he walks forward, sitting a few inches beside him on the rickety bench but facing away from the piano. The thing itself is old and black, chipped, and the keys look looser than normal.

"Tell me about her," he says. Axel's smile disappears.

"She's dead," he says flatly, and finishes with a rolling chord. The silence is suddenly rather uncomfortable, and Roxas bites his lip.

"…Play me something," he murmurs.

"Well, I've always been partial to Chopin, though I think you'd be more of a Debussy," Axel smirks, and begins to play something gentle and bittersweet, utterly beautiful and flowery. It sounds rather familiar, and reminds Roxas of moonlight.

"I've heard this one before," he finds himself saying, closing his eyes and humming softly from his memory. _"Hmm-hmm-hmm…"_

And Axel sounds with all of the necessary drama while his body retains a classical musician's composure, and in all honestly Roxas at first finds it strange, yet somehow this characteristic fits in perfectly. Axel stops abruptly and slings an arm around Roxas' front, pulling him closer by the waist and reveling in the suddenly-pink shade on the blonde's cheeks.

"I…I want to…I want to do it again," he murmurs, and Axel all too eagerly complies.

**

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**

: O :

* * *

When Cloud finally manages to make his way back home, he finds the door unlocked and hanging open a little. Every nerve in his body suddenly goes haywire, alert, and he slides into the house silently. The lights are all off, and nothing seems out of place, which puts the concept of burglary out of mind…and when he sees the leather jacket slung over the couch, he can't help but grin.

The toilet flushes, and he darts to the side of the door he knows will block him from view when it opens. It does, and just as Squall steps into sight he leaps, hands grasping his shoulder and pulling him back to nip at his ear. The brunette inhales sharply in surprise, but when he realizes who it is he huffs in relief.

"You're quiet," he says, his hands covering Cloud's. "And you were gone a long time."

"How'd you get inside?"

"I picked your lock. I bet the neighbors were thrilled.

"They mind their own," Cloud turns the man around, and slides his hands into Squall's back pockets with a grin. "Good thing, right?"

Squall gives him a stern look, one that the blonde can tell is supposed to be reprimanding. He wraps his arms around Cloud's shoulders and pulls him close, burying his head into the soft blonde hair, and Cloud tilts his head to try and see his face.

"What're you doing?" he murmurs, and his face may or may not be red with a blush.

"I don't know," he answers, and it's never been more true. "I just…I want…"

"There's something you should know," Cloud murmurs, pulling him close around the waist and pushing his head into his chest. "Aerith and I are going to try something."

"Oh really?" the brunette frowns, trying again to see Cloud's face, but in vain. "What's that?"

"I need you to do me a favor first."

**

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**

: O :

* * *

"Mmm…"

Hands slide down smooth, tanned skin, thumbs pressing into jutted hips and _gripping, _eliciting a gentle mewl.

"Ah…"

"Sora…"

"Y-Yea?"

Riku slides his lips down to the brunette's clavicle, catching the spot just below his neck that he's discovered drives Sora _wild, _and the brunette gasps and arches further up against him, a strangled, sweet cry sliding between his lips.

"Oh!"

"Mm…you taste so nice…"

Sora feels his entire face burn, because everything is still so new and just hearing the huskiness in Riku's voice makes him shiver. He feels nervous and excited at the same time, like a constant Christmas Morning, and--

Somewhere far away, the sound of a door opening catches Riku's attention, and he groans as he sits up, hands still latched onto the boy's hips, face pained. Sora smiles and shakes his head, sitting up and planting a soft, slow kiss on Riku's lips. When he pulls away he's pleased to see Riku's shocked face, which quickly melts into a smile.

"Don't worry about it--she doesn't have to know," Sora whispers, and reaches for his clothes. Riku thanks him by holding him around the waist and kissing his neck while he pulls his socks on.

"Riku? Riku, come downstairs," his mother's voice echoes.

The boys scramble down as if they've been enjoying a day as normal as any other, though the woman's eyes narrow when she sees Sora.

"Oh," her voice goes dead. "I had no idea you had company."

"Yea, well," Riku shrugs, but doesn't finish his thought, because he sees the envelope still laying on the countertop, and he glances to Sora, but it's too late--the brunette has seen it too, and his eyes sparkle with interest in an expression that makes Riku's heart tighten.

"Did you tell Sora the good news?" he hears his mother's voice, and he turns to her with a devilish glare.

"Mom--"

"Come, darling, you should be proud of yourself," she smiles softly, the grin of a hell-snake. "Not a lot of people get accepted to RGU."

Sora's world comes to a screeching halt.

The silence that follows is thick and imposing, and it kicks Sora's ass right off of cloud-9 and onto his ass. He licks his suddenly dry lips and glances at Riku, who looks as if he's caught between comforting Sora and strangling his mother.

"I'm not going," he finally manages to mutter. His mother snorts.

"I _beg _to differ. That school is SO much better than the second-rate place you're enrolled in now."

Sora flinches; he and Riku both got accepted to TU together, and were enthralled at the idea of going. It was also the only school the brunette managed to get into.

"Mother," Riku hisses.

And the thing that really burns Sora is that, in Riku's eyes, he can see that he is only protesting for Sora's sake. It's not that he didn't want to go with Sora, but a school as good as Radiant Garden University…it's only natural he'd want to go. Their programs are unparalleled, the campus is huge, their alumni network is extraordinary…

"I should go," he manages. Riku's face twists with confusion, and Sora offers him a small, reassuring smile, though it doesn't seem to do much. "S-See you later, alright?"

He bolts before anything else can be said.

**

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**

: O :

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_The adults like Roxas._

_Vexen and Saix, his two counselor friends all coo and coddle him, patting his head and touching his face, his shoulders, smiling gently at him and offering him snacks. He isn't used to such attention--after all, Sora was always the one to be adored, not him--and he finds himself enjoying their company. They don't laugh at him or make him feel small; they ask small tasks from him and from completing them he builds confidence._

_But then, things start to change. _

_A pretty girl with brown hair and green eyes asks Roxas to join her for lunch with the other children, and Roxas tells Saix, but the counselor seems less than pleased._

"_I can't believe you would betray your friends like that," he hisses, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous and horrible. Before Roxas can react he's pushed the tiny blonde boy onto the ground with a single swipe of his arm. "You're a terrible friend. Don't ever come back to our hut."_

_He skips lunch, spends the day crying in his bunk. It's nearly midnight when he manages to sneak out of his cabin and creeps to the one where his adult friends are. Saix opens the door after only one knock, and his smirk is feral._

"_I know a way you can make it up to us," he says, and behind him, Vexen looks positively lethal._

**

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**

: O :

* * *

"You'd make a perfect housewife."

Demyx is positively glowing as he flits around the hotel room that they're still staying at, making the bed and the coffee all at once. He's offered to rub the detective's feet numerous times, but Zexion would rather be beaten with a blunt object than have his feet touched. Still, the thought of the blonde fawning over him in such a way makes him almost feel a little warm.

"You think so?" he grins. "I'm not really a kid person, but I like the whole 'cook-and-clean' thing. Not like a sitar player can make a great deal of dollars anyway."

"Perhaps not," Zexion murmurs, and glances back down at the papers spread out before him. The court date is fast approaching, and he licks his lips. Roxas' agreeing to testify will be an enormous help to their case, but that means getting the kid to talk. And as little pressure as they'd like to put on him…it is very important that they get along with the case to keep Vexen and Saix off of the streets.

There's a knock on the door and, without even thinking, Demyx goes to answer it. There's an unfamiliar brunette with cold eyes and a distinct scar across his face, and he glances at the blonde with a frown.

"Your hair isn't lavender," he grunts, and Zexion turns from his spot on the desk, frowning.

"You're looking for who?" he asks, and goes to stand beside Demyx.

"Zexion."

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My name is Squall. And I have some information that I think you'll want."

He hands him an envelope, and turns on heel to leave.

"And who should I thank for this?" he calls out, and Squall just shrugs, looking completely inconspicuous as he walks down the hallway.

Squall doesn't have enough patience for the elevator, so he heads back down the stairs, mission accomplished. His pace is hurried (as it should be; there's a lovely blonde waiting for him back home) and he smoothly makes his exit into the lobby, where--

Long, silver hair, cold green eyes, and a murderous countenance.

Cloud couldn't have described him better if there had been a picture in front of his face, and Squall recognizes the face to the name without even a second thought. Everything about this man screams danger and intimidation, even as his eyes flicker over to Squall, sparkling with interest. He approaches and Squall tenses, his body almost instinctively reacting in defense.

"Hello," Sephiroth smirks. "You know it's rude to gawk."

"…I could say the same for you," Squall manages to grunt, and those eyes, almost hypnotizing in quality, sheen.

"Well now," he grins, feral, and his face hints that he isn't very used to people speaking in such a manner to him. "You've got a bite, don't you?"

Squall doesn't answer. The situation is tense, underlying with something thick and too present, and he doesn't trust himself to stay there any longer. A million words bubble on his tongue, a million threats and warnings in fierce protection for Cloud, and instead of saying them and getting his beloved in trouble--

He walks out the door without looking back, his heart throbbing as he mentally examines the word he's used. Beloved?

He doesn't love Cloud. It's impossible. But to treasure him so strongly…he hops into his car and shudders, and then decides not to think about it anymore.

**

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**

: O :

* * *

"I don't want to go home," Roxas says.

It's probably around midnight, if Axel had to guess, but he's not entirely sure, because every moment has been spent measured in touches and kisses for the past day. The blonde rolls over in the bed, sheets pooled around his waist and Axel just looks at him, silent and observant.

"Mom is probably worrying," he explains. "Especially since she knows. And Sora…well, he's probably still worrying about Riku. But I just can't find it in myself to care," he smiles despite himself. "This feels too good. I don't want it to end."

Axel reaches an arm out to Roxas' waist, and pulls him close, moving his head down so that his lips are just a bare inch above Roxas'. The blonde's lips part and he feels them curl into a smile for just a second before closing the teasing distance, lips fitting into a familiar pattern, though Axel thinks he'll never get enough of the feeling.

"So don't," he challenges, his voice lower than he'd meant. "Stay with me."

And maybe he doesn't mean to sound so fierce in his request, but it doesn't seem to bother the blonde. He blushes deep and buries his head into the pillow they're resting on, but Axel sees a telltale smile on his face.

"Yea," he chokes, and Axel's smirk disappears at the thickness of the sound. Suddenly Roxas begins to shake, his tiny body wracking with sobs he's kept inside of himself for an insurmountable amount of time.

"R-Rox," he murmurs, and the blonde tears his face up from the pillow.

It's the first time Axel's seen him like this since…

"I just--I don't know what's wrong with me," he admits, letting out a dry laugh, though his eyebrows pull downward with his lips in a pout, eyes red and overflowing, and no matter how much he rubs his cheeks with the back of his hand, they just keep coming. The sight _hurts _Axel, literally causes his chest to cave and his heart to throb in his chest, painful, unwilling.

"Roxas…" the whisper burns his throat and he grabs the blonde, pulling him flush against him. Roxas clings to him, literally _clings, _grasping him and pushing his face hard into his chest in an attempt to block out the world, the sadness, the misery, the hypocrisy. Because everything in this world is fucked up, just overwhelming and unbearable all by oneself, and having to be strong for so long takes such a toll that it crushes him.

"Sh…it's okay," Axel murmurs into his ear, kissing the top of his head and hugging him so tight it hurts. "I'm here, it's okay."

"I want to go away," he sobs, voice squeaking in a desperate plea. "I just want to disappear."

"Then we'll go somewhere," Axel hurriedly murmurs, hands rubbing along the boy's bare back. "We'll take a trip to the city, or anywhere you want, alright? How does that sound?"

Roxas doesn't answer. He just sobs and sobs, tears falling down Axel's chest. The redhead pulls him into his lap and presses his head into his neck, and rocks him gently back and forth. The boy's world crumbles into pieces around him and all he can do is hold him tightly, and wait for the end of this breakdown.

"Everything will be alright," he murmurs against his soft blonde hair. "C'mon, baby. Everything will be fine."

And, for once, Roxas lets himself believe.

**

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: End 13 :

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Bah. Shit on a stick...but let's hear it from you, shall we? :3


	14. Endless Delights

AN: There are no excuses we can give. We have been horrible, and if you're still reading this than you are fantastic and deserve a thousand billion million hugs. xxx Keeping this short so you can get onto the good stuff! ;) MROW!

**Wildfire**

Endless Delights

July passes first with a record heat wave, and one of the worst draughts that the coast had ever experienced. The land becomes brittle and dry as the grass cracks and yellows beneath tanned sandaled toes. The brick roads steam and sizzle, and promissory warnings keep Sora from enjoying his summer to the fullest—heat advisory, risk of stroke or heart attack, wear sunscreen or you'll blister.

Riku lets him come over once in awhile, or sometimes, Riku shows up bathed in moonlight at his window. His heart flutters and he forgets about the ghosts in his mother's eyes and the empty void where Roxas once was. They don't talk about September, because July tastes so good when it feels like it will never end.

August comes, and slows, and goes. Boxes are filled with clothing and belongings and pictures and sticky tack, posters and books and glasses and toothbrushes. Aoi's eyes are like shattered stained glass, but she smiles convincingly enough as she grasps the boxes and stacks them around the kitchen. Ever since Roxas disappeared, she has not been well, and Sora feels an unspeakable guilt over leaving.

"He'll come back when he's ready," she says, nodding to herself. Initially she had been inconsolable, nearly reduced to fits and Sora almost wanted to call a hospital or something…but then the postcards started coming.

The 100-Acre Wood came almost a week after Roxas vanished, a picture of a lush Greenland with enormous trees and honeycombs that ooze right off of the trees. On the back was scribbled in Roxas' handwriting: _I'm okay, but I'm not coming home yet. I hope you understand. Roxas._

By the end of the week, they received another, from the Dwarf Woodlands, and the note, _Still kicking. _Then Halloween Town, with _I guess this place is pretty calm off-season…_ and then Olympus, the Timeless River to Port Royal and Atlantica. The most recent lays on the countertop, and Sora grasps it, flips it over.

_Sora, sorry I won't be there to see you off, but it's chilly here, so I might stay awhile. I hope you can forgive me. Roxas._

Sora snorts, but he doesn't smile. Smiles are few and far between anymore unless he's forgetting the world with Riku, but even that small pleasure is about to be pulled out from underneath him. The warmth of his hands and the coolness of his breath, the slide of lips along jawline and earlobe, the pleasant weight of a second body in your bed…

Sora shakes his head and looks at the picture on the postcard.

"He's heading north," Sora says, and his mother regards him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"The Land of Dragons is east, isn't it?"

"Northeast, yea."

She goes to the refrigerator, where she and Sora have arranged a map of the continent, and have since been tracking Roxas' progress. There is a distinctive line to his progress, and Aoi tacks the mountainous region, smiling softly.

"My baby is seeing more than I've ever seen," she murmurs to herself. "I suppose I should be grateful."

"He'll come home when he's ready," Sora repeats the words of comfort Aoi so often spoke to him, and places the postcard with the others. Aoi sighs and smiles a little.

**O**

Namine stiffens beneath the sharpness of Larxene's knife. She always does, and her thin, youthful chest fills with air in anticipation. She grips the sheets beneath her, the weight of the older woman heavy between her legs. Black silk is tied around her eyes and her lips part, face flushed.

"Do it," she whispers, harsher than she ever thought she could sound. "_Please_."

Larxene presses her grinning face into Namine's soft belly, licking her belly button in a mockery of what the smaller blonde needs. She had fun like this with her last boyfriend, but he always seemed hesitant, as if he didn't like this decadent agony. Namine elicits the proper response; she keens and begs and needs the pain, just like Larxene. She brings her hand up to touch the still-warm but solid wax trailing along the girl's abdomen, up across the pert, orange-sized mounds of her chest, and over one hardened nipple. Carefully, Larxene slides the knife under the wax, slicing it away and pressing just enough for sensation and not nearly enough to draw blood from the writhing girl beneath her.

Namine shudders, and a long, depraved sound pulls like taffy from her heart. Larxene giggles and bites her lip, hard enough to pinch, soaking from such a sound.

She scrapes the wax and watches in amazement how quickly Namine's skin reddens. Her fingers are deft and continue their trail upwards, and as she moves Namine wraps her legs around her torso, hips bucking. Larxene pulls her peachy lips into a perfect 'o' and blows on the skin, causing goosebumps to pop up at her command. The knife is gentle against her nipples and she moans again, back arching and neck rolling back, and just then Larxene's phone starts to ring, and the tone is familiar but unexpected. She hisses and pulls the knife away too fast—the smallest of nicks against Namine's transluscent skin, and the girl gasps, her hips shuddering and thighs squeezing in the tell-tale sign of an orgasm. Larxene, on the brink of a severe apology, can only hum as her own arousal grows, but the ringing is insistent. She must.

"Demyx," she hisses into the device, eyeing Namine's still-shuddering form. Her heels slide up and down on the soft bed as she writhes, and the sight is almost enough to bring Larxene over the edge. "This had better be really fucking good."

"_Ex-girlfriend!" _the voice is too chipper. "_Don't hang up. This is important. Do you remember how we first met?"_

Larxene's breath hitches, and she turns, glancing at Namine, still on her bed. She's stoped quivering, though her chest still raises and falls with heavy breaths. Her coat is on the chair and she tugs it quickly on, covering all but her bare feet, and she kisses Namine on the cheek. "Be right back," she murmurs, and scurries out of the apartment and into the hallway.

"…What are you on bringing something like that up over the phone?" she snarls, fists clenched. Her bare feet slap against the linoleum as she paces. "Seriously, the whole point of _hiding _is that we don't discuss how we met. Are you sure you're not being tracked?"

"_Who, me? I've got diplomatic immunity," _the smug voice says. _"And I'll extend it to you under one condition._"

"My immunity is covered, thank you very much," she snips, her voice lowered. The hallway is empty, but she would do well to avoid rousing suspicion. "I helped some people."

"_So we've heard._"

"Who's 'we'?"

"_My diplomatic immunity and I!"_

There's a voice in the background, and Demyx answers, but it's too late; she already knows, has already heard it, and her head swims so suddenly that she grips the wall. True fear injects itself into her eyes for the first time in a long time.

"Z-Zexion," she heaves, heart hammering, and _no, _not him, not that rat, what on earth is Demyx doing with him? "Wh-What the fuck are you doing with that monster?"

"_Monster?_" Demyx hums. "_Don't be dramatic, he's one of us!"_

"He's not to be trusted," she snaps, and her voice echoes a little too boldly in the hallway. She quiets. "You didn't know him when he was one of us. You came after he scampered off. He almost got us all killed!"

"_Larxene," _his voice suddenly goes dark. "_Stop._ _I didn't call for that…I just wanted to give you the heads up. Sephiroth has been taken into custody."_

The air leaves her chest, as if someone had stomped on it.

"Wh-What?!"

"_A warrant was issued for his arrest last month, and they took him in just this morning. Needless to say he's gotten his court date moved up, though I highly doubt the King would sentence him to anything lethal."_

"Yea, unless he knew that Sephiroth was funding us during the war," she snorts, playing with her fingernails. "Not that billions of cash in weaponry skipping town and getting funded right into the Organization's fat pocket would be frowned on or anything. Oh no."

There is a silence, and a shuffling. And instantly Larxene realizes her errors—something's up, something's not right. Why does it matter that she know where Sephiroth is? She hasn't spoken to Demyx in months, anyway. What's the big deal that she needs to know now? And why her?

"Demyx," she says, her voice slow and chilled with the dawning horror of her mistake. "What are you—"

"_Gotta run babes, just thought you should know, ciao!"_

And just like that, the phone clicks dead, and the silence of the hallway overwhelms Larxene. She shouldn't have been so stupid. She shouldn't have even answered the phone. She should have known something was up; her instincts have become dull with this reign of peace, and for the first time in a long time, she feels truly afraid. She shuts her eyes and bites the inside of her lip, and reminds herself of the way she used to get over these things.

Back in the room, Namine is still on the bed, and her eyes flutter open at the presence of another in the room. She smiles, lazy and satisfied, and Larxene hates herself for having ever involved this little dove.

"Come back to bed," the small lady says, and lifts her head to grasp the lit candle from off of the table. She rolls her neck back and gasps as the hot wax dribbles down along her clavicle, falling like honey in big dollops. And Larxene grins—it might be the last night for this before she's got to run away again, the last night of treasures and thrills, so she all but leaps onto her to smother her in a kiss.

**O**

Demyx beams like it's Christmas morning when he hangs up the phone, and the investigators bustle around the room, taking notes and murmuring to each other, looking equal parts worried and terrified.

Because messing with Sephiroth is neither fun nor easy, truth be told.

But, _god_, it's satisfying.

They're in a new hotel a six-minute tram ride from the center of the capitol city; Zexion hates it here, but Demyx loves it. He loves the hustle of a city, the ceaseless hum of lifeless machinery in the background meddling with the sound of very busy and important people. He misses the sound of the ocean, but this place has a spark and a vibe. Here, he could have had any sort of childhood.

Zexion shocks him by coming up to him once the last investigator has left, and hugs him from behind. He peers curiously over his shoulder, and Zexion doesn't kiss him, but just sort of pushes his nose against his temple, and for some reason that he'll never understand he bottles this moment up to remember. Maybe it's the tenderness of the gesture, or maybe it's because he really, really, really wonders how it's possible that Zexion likes him enough to get so close. And, as the lavender-haired man is not one for closeness, this is a big step.

"You did well," he says quietly, and the blonde feels his face rush red. "Thank you for that. It's just what I needed."

Demyx shrugs, and grabs his wrists to keep him there. He twists in his arms and presses his forehead against Zexion's chest, eyes closing.

And the question pops into his head, not for the first time, so loud that he can feel it dance on his tongue. _'What happens to us after?'_ He feels ashamed for wanting to ask, but too scared of the answer to say anything. So instead he just pushes his forehead further against Zexion's chest, and the man lets him, silent and unmoving.

Demyx misses the look on Zexion's face—the flash of protectiveness as he holds him close, the determination and the softness that blow over him as he holds the broad-shouldered man. Because they're so close to the edge that these still moments before the storm are going to be the only things to keep him going.

**O**

"_It's just a game of dress-up, okay?"_

_Roxas closes his eyes. He doesn't know where this instinctive nervousness has come from, but something strikes him as wrong about this situation. It's too cold in the hut basement, and the thick chain around his neck almost hurts. There are lights, too, and they've got a camera pointed right at him._

"_Don't be so nervous," Vexen says. "Smile real cute, would you?"_

'_It's just a game of dress-up,' he tells himself._

_It's not until they take the rest of his clothes that he knows something is terribly, desperately, irrevocably wrong._

**O**

Riku is under the impression that the cool he feels in the damp glow of evening has nothing to do with the weather. He's also quite sure that the lump in his throat is completely unrelated to whatever it was he ate for lunch, and there's no excuse for the trembling. He waits at the door and Aoi answers, gives him a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and tells him, "He's upstairs."

With a nod, Riku thanks her. Pulls at his shirt, fiddles with the edges, bites his lip and averts his eyes. Closes them. Forward.

And were there always so many stairs here, he wonders? (Definitely not.) It must be a whole hour that passes between Aoi at the doorway and this moment right here, standing with hands shoved in his pockets, in front of the door and not wanting to start the last night of their summer.

How will he do it? Will they simply fall into a desperate embrace, no words necessary, just physical understanding? Or will Sora have him at all, now that it's settled, now that it's so close to ending? Will he say the wrong thing? Will Sora hurt him with indifference? What should he say, how should he inflect it, should he begin with a kiss or a joke or a—

The buzzing in his pocket seems to electrify his whole body, and he nearly jumps out of his skin, and again when he sees the name on his mobile. _Sora._

"Hey," he answers, and his voice is calm and warm. He's about to follow it up with something cute, like, 'Open up Romeo, I'm freezing in here,' but Sora beats him to it with—

"_Don't come over tonight."_

And his breath catches like a fishhook in his throat, his mind goes blank, his fingers numb, as the words process. His mouth opens and the sentence seems to raise to eye level, pressing against his consciousness like a finger on a bruise.

"_Please,_" Sora's voice catches, and Riku can hear him through the door speaking every word a split second before it comes into the medium of the telephone, and the despondency is thick in his voice. "_I hope you understand."_

Just like that, the phone clicks shut; the line fizzes and dies.

Inside his room, Sora is silent. Outside, Riku nods, fists clenched and lips pressed into a thin line. Right. Okay. It's done.

And in that moment he realizes that he had hoped, and fervently, for something. He can't place what exactly, but the hope had been there, and his stride is slow and quiet as he goes down the stairs. Aoi is nowhere to bee seen, and he's grateful, because the sting of rejection clenches around his throat, and a goodbye to her would probably sound awful.

'_Don't come over tonight.'_

The walk home is a blur of those words, again and again, trying to recreate the exact timbre of Sora's voice and decipher any hidden meaning therein. But instead all he can recall are the myriads of opportunities they've missed by hiding from each other, the kisses and the touches and the teasing that will never happen, moments and seconds and wasted days of wasting Sora—

'_Please._'

The brightness of his smile, of his eyes, of the way his eyes curve and his nose scrunches and the sound of his voice when it wraps around his name, and how he could look at Riku like he was the only person on the planet. The way his lips taste, the curve of his back beneath Riku's wanton fingertips.

'_I hope you understand._'

And when did he even get home, under the covers, eyes wide open but already halfway sleeping, dreaming of the spot behind Sora's ear that felt so soft against his nose and half-hid his own brilliant smile.


End file.
